


won't you get up off, get up off the roof?

by uaigneach



Series: It's 2021 and I'm sad [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Bullying, Child Neglect, Depressed Miya Atsumu, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, I'm sorry I totally forgot about tagging warnings, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mild Blood, Miya Atsumu Needs a Hug, Miya Atsumu-centric, Oblivious Miya Osamu, Osamu is the older twin here, Pro Volleyball Player Miya Atsumu, Pro Volleyball Player Sakusa Kiyoomi, Protective Miya Osamu, Sad Miya Atsumu, Sakusa Kiyoomi is Bad at Feelings, Self-Harm, Soft Sakusa Kiyoomi, Suicidal Thoughts, because when isn't it with my writing, discussion of mental health issues, fight me, please let me know if I forgot anything else
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-15 00:21:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 35,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28929456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uaigneach/pseuds/uaigneach
Summary: Despite what many may say, Miya Atsumu wasn’t an idiot.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu & Miya Osamu, Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi, Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou
Series: It's 2021 and I'm sad [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2121756
Comments: 190
Kudos: 797
Collections: Fics That Should Be Adored and Loved, kagsivity's fic archive





	1. the self is not so weightless, nor whole and unbroken

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Achilles, Come Down](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/766389) by Gang of Youths. 



> listen that song has been bouncing around my head for days, and because I don't have good coping skills for stress, I write fanfiction so that I don't have a panic attack in class

Despite what many may say, Miya Atsumu wasn’t an idiot.

He heard the things people said about him. He knew what people thought. He’d read every single letter that had been slipped into his locker – and make no mistake, none of them had been confession letters like Osamu liked to joke about.

He knew that Osamu was the favoured twin. It had started early into their childhood, what with Atsumu coming as a bit of a surprise. Twins didn’t really run in their family and little Atsumu had been deemed the unplanned sibling. His mother’s labour had been long and hard, although the actual birth of Osamu had been quick. Atsumu managed to be an entire day after. His mother had wanted to deliver naturally, and since he’d shown no signs of distress, she’d been allowed to continue naturally. They’d both been on the smaller side, having been born premature as many twins are.

But right from the moment of Osamu’s comparatively easy birth, he’d been the favourite. Osamu had been an easy baby, complaining minimally and having no issues with breast feeding. Heck, he even slept through the night without a fuss of his own! Atsumu on the other hand, had been an absolute little terror.

He’d required more time in the NICU than Osamu and had absolutely refused to breast feed. He cried at the drop of a hat and had some slight hearing problems that eventually became a series of ear infections. They’d quarantined him away from Osamu so as to not spread the infection and little Atsumu had lost it. He’d only calmed down when he’d been able to see Osamu. From the very get-go, the twins had been incredibly adept at sensing the other and Osamu was almost always enough to calm down a raging Atsumu. Sometimes merely having them in the same bed was enough to quiet the younger.

Still, as they grew up, it was easy to see why Osamu continued to be the favoured twin – the Better Miya, as they began calling it. He made friends easily; he was smart and had a calm and easy demeanor. Atsumu was louder, learning to talk while his ears had still been partially plugged, causing him to have difficulty with speaking at lower volumes. Eventually, he’d trained himself to speak a little more like Osamu, but anytime his emotions became too much, he lost control of his volume. This resulted in _many_ shouting incidents. Not wanting to be the only one yelling and embarrassed, Atsumu had taken to taunting and snapping at people. Eventually, that transitioned to a more Osamu-like tone since it tended to get a better reaction.

And so Atsumu was deemed loud and mean.

No one cared that Atsumu was just as smart as Osamu. He was mean and more likely to tease you than help you if you couldn’t figure something out. He “didn’t have time for anyone less talented” than he was. It was no wonder people like Osamu more.

Contrary to the carefree attitude Atsumu displayed, it bothered him. He noticed how his parents were quick to discipline him when he got rowdy or did something Osamu didn’t. He was always the first to be blamed, even when Osamu stuck up for him. The only time no one listened to Osamu was when it was about Atsumu. Atsumu’d even gone to school with a high fever because his mother had thought he’d been faking it for attention and hadn’t believed Osamu when he’d dutifully reported that Atsumu had thrown up in the middle of the night.

But Atsumu could deal with that. It’s not like he knew anything else.

It wasn’t like his mother was all that wrong either. It was probably that that actually caused him to act out to get attention. Any attention was better than no attention. He told Osamu that he didn’t need other friends since he had Osamu. Osamu hadn’t looked convinced, but Atsumu had continued to act unaffected and Osamu dropped the issue. Neither of them mentioned Atsumu’s troubles with connecting with his peers to his parents. They both knew they’d just give Atsumu more grief.

They’d been very proud when the twins got into volleyball. For the first time, Atsumu was being complimented by authority figures and whatever trouble he made was genuinely mitigated by his skill with the ball. He was a natural setter – but that didn’t stop him from pushing to be _better_.

He caught on pretty early that people cared a lot less about his sloppy accent (a deeper twang caused partially by the dialect they learned and partially yet another consequence of his early hearing issues) and “shitty personality” if he was really good at playing volleyball. Alongside his twin, he improved the reputation of the schools he went to with his skill.

Yeah, they butted heads, but both were phenomenally skilled and smart to boot. People simply overlooked Atsumu’s issues.

Atsumu didn’t tell Osamu that the first letter he received was a hate letter from an upperclassman that he’d upstaged and subsequently dismissed. The upperclassman had been frustrated and even pulled Atsumu aside to apologize, but Atsumu never forgot. It was just the first of many.

* * *

Physically, despite Atsumu’s health issues as a toddler, the twins were identical. If Atsumu was having a good day, he could even convince his parents that he was Osamu. That of course only worked if Osamu wasn’t in pain sight. Atsumu “had too much personality,” or so they claimed, and it would always shine through. Although it only seemed to shine though when he opened his big fat mouth.

When Atsumu was dragged behind the bleachers and handed a note with Osamu’s name written on it by a flustered girl begging him to accept her confession, Atsumu had had enough of being mistaken for Osamu.

(At least no one ever seemed to mistake Osamu for Atsumu. Osamu had never gotten any of Atsumu’s hate notes. He would have commented on it for sure. He was Atsumu’s big brother; his twin.)

The twins bleached their hair; Osamu taking the calmer grey dye and leaving Atsumu with the yellow bleached hair. Atsumu was louder anyway. The colour suited him. Osamu joked that it was like aposematism and showed everyone that Atsumu was dangerous.

By the time they entered Inarizaki High School, they weren’t mistaken for each other anymore.

It was nice, to have something of his own – even though all Atsumu really knew was Osamu.

Still, it was easy to see how none of Atsumu’s peers or sempais cared for him. He was just as obnoxious as before, only now his hair matched his attitude. He laughed loudly and excelled in class. He kept tearing up the volleyball court, proving that he was an asset as a setter and was even a pretty well-rounded player – not spiking with the same grace as Osamu (something that burned just a little) but still being able to switch things up at the drop of a hat. His serve was devastating on a bad day, and he was obsessed with getting better. He wanted to make equally devasting quicks and surprise tactics with anyone he ended up teamed up with. He wanted to _push_ them to be the best that they could be. He wanted to see their very limit and then push a little farther.

If they couldn’t keep up, then why were they starters in the first place? Atsumu planned on taking his team to Nationals. They were going to be the best.

(Even upon entering first year, Atsumu knew that Osamu would never go pro. His passions lay elsewhere and while he loved the sport, it wouldn’t kill him to stop like it would Atsumu. At the end of the day, it was just a game to his older brother.

It hurt Atsumu to know that one day, there would be no more playing with Osamu and Atsumu would have to make his way in the world alone. He’d only have his skills to rely on.

So he was going to become the best damn setter and make it all the way to the National Team and go to the Olympics.

It wasn’t like he was really any good for anything else.)

So they made starting lineup in first year and stayed there for second year too. The twins’ names became known in their volleyball circuit, Atsumu outperforming Oikawa Tooru (the setter to watch) in crazy intense serves _and_ crazy sets.

They more than earned their places in Volleyball Monthly, thank you very much. Even if they didn’t have any of the shiny aces from the Top 5, they had Atsumu, and that drew the same level of interest as if they had the likes of Bokuto Koutarou on their team.

Inarizaki was a threat and staple at the Spring Nationals. Atsumu was difficult to deal with both on and off the court, and he got invited to the National Youth Camp. Their first year, Osamu was invited alongside him, but in their second, Osamu wasn’t. He wasn’t all that broken up about it. He was good, but he was no genius, nor did he work himself into the ground like Atsumu did. That frustrated Atsumu.

Atsumu played his part well and let Osamu handle his emotions like always. He had some unfortunately larger concerns.

He would be going to Tokyo for an entire week without Osamu.

Yeah, technically they weren’t together 24/7 (Osamu would have murdered Atsumu by now and to this day he’s surprised that Osamu didn’t absorb him in the womb like he always lamented) but they’d never been separated _like this_.

This was the first step into that daunting future where Osamu would no longer be on the court with him. Osamu would move on from volleyball and from Atsumu.

He wasn’t nearly as ready as he thought he would be.

He seemed to get along well enough with the people there. They were all genius volleyball nuts – Kageyama really was too cute – with varying degrees of social skills. They weren’t nearly as bothered by his prickly annoying nature. Kageyama really was a little goody-two-shoes and seemed terribly happy whenever Atsumu offered any kind of advice or praise about his setting skills. IT would be kind of sad if Atsumu didn’t get it. But he had his little mask to maintain, so he laughed and teased and desperately made sure no one noticed when he slipped into a mood.

Sometimes it was just that much harder to pretend that he was unbothered by stares or loud noises. He’d mindlessly scratch at his shoulders when he got anxious and chew on the inside of his cheeks. Kageyama and Hoshiumi were both very intense people, especially when combined. Kageyama not being surprised by Hoshiumi had resulted in quite a lot of noise that just so happened to coincide with one of Atsumu’s slips.

Ushiwaka had been intense the year before, but that intense stare had been mitigated by Osamu’s easy presence. It didn’t change the fact that Sakusa was as sharp as ever. Atsumu hadn’t interacted with him much the year before since he was avoiding Ushiwaka since he made his skin crawl from his intense stare and Sakusa had a weird obsession with him.

Atsumu really didn’t understand but if Motoya was to be believed, it had started with a pocket handkerchief. Atsumu really didn’t want to know. It seemed like a lot. Sakusa was a lot.

Yeah, the boy was beautiful, and his damn flexible wrists were as infuriating as they were impressive, but Sakusa had a piercing gaze similar to Ushiwaka. Although instead of staring at you like he was picking you apart piece by piece to destroy you, Sakusa stared with general, but pointed, disgust. It made Atsumu squirm.

The locker notes had calmed down since Atsumu got Inarizaki positive media attention – and he’d even managed to attract some misguided fangirls who hadn’t learned how sharp his tongue was – but that didn’t change the fact that Atsumu absolutely hated to be scrutinized.

It was one thing to know he was not enough and another to see that others realized it too.

In some ways, the notes were easier to deal with.

They were generally anonymous (if there were names, Atsumu could have reported them for suicide baiting and gotten the issue taken care of long ago because even if it was him, suicide baiting would not be tolerated by the school board) and a little cathartic to deal with. They motivated him to get better. Once he shone so brightly that no one could deny it, surely there would be no more notes. He would accomplish ‘good enough’ then.

He kept a scrapbook in his private lockbox – a small bit of privacy that both twins afforded each other since living in each other’s pockets could get _very_ overwhelming pretty quickly – where he’d carefully taped in every note he’d ever gotten. He never reread the notes – what if Osamu got nosy? He would get upset and there wouldn’t be anything for him to do to fix it. It would just be an unnecessary distraction. Osamu needed the good grades more than Atsumu anyway. Atsumu would immediately sign with a V. League team after high school while Osamu would go to university for something that would help him in running his business.

It’s just… sometimes Atsumu needed to hold it; feel how heavy the book had gotten, how much it had expanded. It was proof that it wasn’t all in his head. It wasn’t just him trying to cause drama where there was none. It wasn’t something that he was faking or imagining. There was concrete proof in the form of different handwriting and carefully penned dates used to title each carefully pressed note.

Sakusa made Atsumu think of the words written on those notes sometimes. He dealt with Atsumu, but it surprised absolutely no one that Sakusa only put up with him and his incessant “Omi-Omi” because he was part of the little group that his cousin had put together. He even put up with their dumb little group chat.

(Kageyama liked to send meme worthy pictures of his teammates – a certain orange-haired middle blocker in particular – and it never ceased making Atsumu laugh and brightened his day every time.)

(Atsumu countered with increasingly cursed photos of Suna and even Osamu. Although someone would inevitably photoshop the hair and claim it to be Atsumu instead.)

(The one time someone photoshopped Atsumu’s face onto Barry B. Benson after their monthly movie call, Sakusa actually bothered to interact and had the audacity to send a single _laughing emoji._ )

Because Atsumu’s brain really couldn’t give him a break, he of course couldn’t stop thinking about Sakusa and his stupid floofy hair and eyebrow moles. He hated that latching onto people who considered him lower than dirt was becoming a habit.

Hell, he’d nearly started bawling his eyes out when Kita sent him home early and when he was sick, and with a damn care package! No one had _ever_ done that for him before!

How sad and pathetic could he possibly be?

No wonder Osamu couldn’t stand him half the time. He really was dramatic, wasn’t he?

Damn. He was a mess.

* * *

Sometimes Atsumu’s brain could get too loud.

He’d pour over every mistake he’d ever made for hours, constantly wanting to be better and then turning around and making an ass of himself. He couldn’t _stop_ being an idiot – it was like a compulsion. Every time he could simply shut his trap and just _not_ provoke people he’d blurt out something completely stupid and just _watch_ as everyone grew more and more annoyed with him.

All the while he’d be stuck smiling and cackling like there was nothing wrong in the first place.

It hurt that Osamu never noticed any of his struggles.

The notes hurt, and he never truly forgot anything they said, but Inarizaki hadn’t been all that heavily into personally or publicly giving him shit for “having a bad personality” but his team and so-called ‘friends’ more than made up for it.

Sure, he technically had friends, but as always, they were Osamu’s friends who put up with him. (The dynamic of the youth camp group chat mainly consisted of memes and bullying Atsumu also, so that didn’t really count even though they were his _own_ friends.) Suna alone gave him shit every time he so much as opened his mouth. At least Sakusa waited until he said something dumb to send Atsumu.bee.jpg to the chat.

_“God, you’re so annoying.”_

_“Do you ever shut up?”_

_“Don’t even start–”_

_“Yeah, who’d willingly put up with you?”_

_“Bet you failed that last test. All you’re good at is volleyball.”_

_“If you weren’t such a good setter–”_

_“Can you stop acting so… you? Just for 5 minutes.”_

_“No wonder everyone hates you.”_

_“Ugh, I hate you.”_

_“Disgusting, Atsumu.”_

Never ending snappy comments. Mostly they were made offhandedly, but lately they’d gotten more and more pointed as seemed to be wholly incapable of _not_ annoying people. Some days he’d just show up and Aran would let out this world-weary sigh.

Atsumu hadn’t even done anything.

If anything, at those practices he was more like Osamu than ever before! He didn’t brag or taunt at all and he only spoke when congratulating others! And yet, they all looked at him like he’d been running around setting volleyballs on fire.

He… didn’t know what to do.

He always claimed to not care that everyone hated him, but he couldn’t help it! Even other teams knew his team didn’t like him all that much. He helped them win games. That was all. He was the other Miya twin. The loud one. Atsumu couldn’t help it!

But… habits could be changed… he could make _something_ different, surely.

Halfway through his third year – where he’d somehow been made captain with Osamu as his vice-captain – he’d learned how to shut up. Mostly.

He gave his speeches and helped teach the underclassmen, but he only trash talked when they were playing against a different team (never in practice). He stopped ribbing the Inarizaki players entirely and didn’t ‘throw a tantrum’ when either Suna or Osamu scolded him for a reckless set. He didn’t complain when they insulted him in front of the first and second years. He just… rose above and kept pushing himself harder.

They made it to finals that year. Sakusa’s team managed to beat them in the 5th set.

He’d made sure to congratulate and thank the entire team for getting that far. He didn’t break down until late into the night when Osamu was dead asleep and Atsumu could sneak into the bathroom.

It was the first time he tore into the skin on his thighs with something other than his nails. It hurt different, the clean but deeper cuts from the straight razor he’d picked up in his first year. He’d insisted on learning how to use it, claiming it was cool and distinguished.

It wasn’t the first time he’d thought about using it for something that wasn’t shaving. It was just the first time he actually bothered to act on it.

Most of his scratch scars settled on his upper biceps near his shoulders and on his upper back. They were made involuntarily during anxiety attacks. When he’d scratched them bloody one night, he’d turned to his thighs. They were usually easily concealable by his boxers. Not that it mattered since he always showered after or before everyone else. He put in hours of extra practice wherever he could. He may not be the only one planning on going pro after high school, but damn, sometimes it sure felt like it.

It was just… exam stress and meeting with scouts and coming to terms with separating from his twin. It wasn’t just the week-long training camp like in their second year. This was moving to Osaka _hours_ away from the one who’d basically been by his side since birth – since conception. They were identical twins after all, a split egg.

Atsumu was stressed and he needed it to go away. Volleyball wasn’t cutting it anymore. If he wanted to be a professional athlete, he couldn’t afford to fuck himself up too badly, but it was a balance between keeping himself in good physical shape and being able to make it to the next day.

He wasn’t stupid.

He knew that he was beginning to spiral, but it wasn’t like he could do all that much about it. He was functional and no one had noticed yet.

Whether that had more to do with his acting ability or simply people not paying attention didn’t really matter anymore, now did it?

And somehow, that’s how Atsumu found himself sitting on a bridge late into the night after graduation, feeling like he was left adrift with no anchor.

It had long since gone dark and Atsumu could see all the stars. He simultaneously felt at peace and incredibly melancholic. There was something both comforting and sad in knowing just how insignificant your place in the universe is. Atsumu wanted to make some kind of mark on the world – put off being lost and forgotten just a little bit longer.

But he was sitting on the railing of one of Hyogo’s taller bridges all alone on the night of his graduation.

In a week, he would be moving to Osaka and meeting with the coach of the MSBY Black Jackals. Osamu would be studying at the local university back in Hyogo, and at most, Atsumu would pick away at some sports related degree online while playing for the V. League to stave off the terror of what he would do when he was forced to retire.

He wanted to call Osamu to come sit with him, but Osamu was spending the night with Suna. He wouldn’t want to be bothered by Atsumu, let alone an Atsumu in the middle of a bout of melancholy.

(Melancholy was just a fancy word for depression, but he really didn’t like acknowledging that the way his brain was wired was just another thing that made him different – lesser – than Osamu. Perfect put-together Osamu.)

He hadn’t planned on coming to the bridge. He hadn’t written any notes or told anyone where he’d be. If he jumped, it could be weeks before someone found his body. The water below was deep and traveled pretty fast. Would he even be recognizable? He’d read somewhere that bodies decomposed faster in moist areas.

Part of him wanted to jump.

It would be so easy, and nothing would matter anymore. No more worries and no more pain. But… he’d leave Osamu alone in the world. Osamu may hate him half the time and not need him to live his life, but at the end of the day, they _were_ twins. Two halves of a whole, incomplete without the other.

Even when you didn’t like someone, them disappearing abruptly and then turning up dead would be more than enough to derail (at the very least) a life. Osamu was about to go to school and start his own business. Atsumu would kick himself in whatever afterlife he ends up with if he’s the reason Osamu’s life gets wrecked.

So instead of climbing over the railing and allowing himself to tip off and fall into the water, he sat on the larger concrete base behind the railing and letting his legs dangle over the side. He spent a couple more hours just sitting in the crisp night air and watching the sky.

By the time he crashed in his childhood bedroom, it was almost dawn. In the morning, none of his family members gave any indication that they were aware he’d even left the house.


	2. hurt and grieve but don’t suffer alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Atsumu IS that 'former' gifted kid with severe burnout issues and like, that's a mood (because I'm projecting shhhh)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Atsumu out here doing mental backflips. Just a reminder that this is told from Atsumu’s perspective and therefore hella biased.
> 
> Sorry for the long time in between updates, but look it's almost 5k words

Joining the MSBY Black Jackals was a completely new experience.

Fukurodani’s former ace and captain had signed on the year before directly after graduating from high school. He was the only one signed to the Jackals from the so-called “Monster Generation” other than Atsumu now. The other team members were all older athletes that had been in the business a few years longer.

That didn’t stop Atsumu from outclassing the team’s other setters and joining Bokuto in the starting lineup; something that satisfied Atsumu’s ego.

Funnily enough, upon joining the Jackals, he didn’t get a speech about curbing his attitude to make sure he meshed well with the other players. Instead, upon walking onto the court for his first official practice, he’d been bear-hugged by the silver-haired former ace and swung around enthusiastically. Bokuto had gone to Nationals the year before to watch his former team and catch up with other friends. Despite never playing against Inarizaki while Atsumu was a setter there, he recognized him and was very excited to see another person from their volleyball circuit there.

Not even the captain had commented on Atsumu’s… unique playstyle and court presence. He just welcomed him with a genuine smile and set about having drills to make sure Atsumu could mesh with the team’s current playstyle. The other players didn’t hesitate to try new things with him either, Bokuto excitedly spearheading that approach with every scream of “toss to me again!”

There was some light teasing, but it was all directed at Bokuto for various things. They teased each other lightly and mostly about inane things like how much Meian loves his wife and how Bokuto has the worst fashion sense and Adriah never managed to look good in photos – the poor guy was almost always blinking or sneezing or something else equally ridiculous. Inunaki poked fun at his bleached hair, but he’d also told Atsumu that he could take out a lot of the brassiness by using purple shampoos and toning conditioners. It wasn’t mean-spirited – he’d even offered some brans that his cousins liked to use.

Atsumu’s hair had never been softer and Bokuto had glomped him after, asking about his new hair.

The teasing didn’t feel as one-sided and Meian reminded him of Kita a bit. He was kind and cared when Atsumu overworked himself or got sick. He reigned him in when he got a little too excited and got unruly, but no more than he did with Bokuto or any of the others. Atsumu wasn’t being picked on and he was _thriving._

His teammates were amazing. Atsumu was perfectly willing to listen to Bokuto gush about Akaashi since it always happened at movie nights and dinners that Atsumu was invited to!

During one team bonding event, they went to a festival together. Atsumu stuck closer to Bokuto and Meian, trusting the captain and his fellow “monster” over the other team members. They were nice, but he felt the closest with Bokuto. The volleyball idiot understood Atsumu in ways that the more senior members didn’t. Despite being monsters on the court, they were both pretty fresh out of high school and felt they had to prove that they’d earned their places on the team.

Besides, Bokuto was like a huge teddy bear and an endless supply of good vibes.

(It had taken a little while for Atsumu to learn how to navigate the moments on the court when Bokuto was more subdued, but Akaashi had been very helpful and Bokuto had gotten much more consistent. He’d mostly gotten over his wild Dejected Mode in the year since he graduated anyways, but he still had some moments.

Atsumu was proud that he was now 1 of 2 setters who could manage Bokuto. Should Akaashi be unavailable, Atsumu worked as a decent stop gap in preventing a meltdown.)

They’d both gotten fairly close.

So when they had to buddy up (because Meian didn’t trust _any_ of the team to not get lost and embarrass the Jackals somehow) Atsumu automatically stuck with Bokuto. They spent the evening flitting between stalls with Bokuto looking for a gift for Akaashi and Atsumu just enjoying the atmosphere. Eventually, Bokuto managed to win a couple small prizes that he was convinced Akaashi would just love.

Then he turned to Atsumu with the biggest grin on his face and presented him with a fox plushy, declaring “it looks like you, Tsum-Tsum!” all cheerfully.

The fox plush was about the size of a standard pillow and surprisingly squishy for a festival prize. Normally, out of all the Inarizaki players, Suna would be compared to their mascot animal the most. He had the narrower features. But Bokuto was right – this one did remarkably look like him.

Remarkably, he didn’t cry, but he did win Bokuto a couple plushies that looked like him and Akaashi. Bokuto had a good laugh, but he’d also pulled Atsumu into one of his classic bear hugs.

Atsumu hadn’t stopped hugging the fox for the rest of the night, hissing and spitting at the rest of the team when they commented on it. Bokuto had won it for him and he wasn’t about to let anyone take away that happiness.

He cried when he got back to his apartment at the Jackals facility, cuddling the fox close. It was the perfect size for him to curl around.

It was such a small thing, but it meant so much to Atsumu. His team cared about him and they were _nice._ It was amazing.

Yes, it sucked that for the first real time in his life, he was living without Osamu and he sometimes really missed the security he felt with his big brother, but Atsumu definitely liked the Jackals much more than he liked Inarizaki.

There was definitely a part of him that felt guilty for that thought, but it was nowhere near as large as it should be. Suna would claim that he didn’t feel anywhere near as guilty as he should because he’s an arrogant (but ambitious) asshole. He wasn’t exactly wrong.

Inarizaki had been a huge part of his life as well as the last team he played with his twin and shouldn’t he be more loyal? It was just… he had felt useful with Inarizaki, but he’d never really felt welcome or appreciated past being a strong volleyball player. He couldn’t really blame the Inarizaki players since he was an asshole at the best of times. But… with the Jackals it was just so different! He didn’t feel like his worth had been relegated to his skills as a volleyball player – he was valued as a person. It sounds so shitty of him to complain about not being valued as a person when his twin brother was literally the vice-captain t his captain, but it was true. With the Jackals he had people who asked him how his day had been going and actually _wanted to hear the answer._

It seemed so small of a thing, but it meant the world to him.

He hadn’t really realized just how much he’d been missing out on until he was suddenly experiencing all of it. It left a sick feeling in his stomach.

That was compounded by the guilt he felt by openly thinking that the Jackals were so much better.

Atsumu was such a shit brother. No wonder Osamu was almost always annoyed with him. He couldn’t stop overthinking and was an ungrateful little shit. He could never be satisfied with what he had.

Really, it was only a matter of time until the Jackals realized it too.

The only reason they were being so nice now was because they didn’t have Osamu there to directly compare him to.

(Well that and Bokuto was far rowdier than Atsumu could ever dream of being.)

Fuck.

Atsumu could not afford to ruin this like he ruins every good thing in his life. He had to do better. He could be better. Just… act more like Osamu. Surely, he could do at least that much?

* * *

He held that resolve for maybe 2 weeks before realizing that he _really_ couldn’t do it.

He was impulsive at the best of times, and being a cocky shit was his default. It was the only way he knew hot to be! Even Osamu was a difficult shit half the time – he just happened to wear it better.

Besides, no one really reacted all that much to Atsumu’s change in demeanor. He already had quieter days when he hyper-fixated on volleyball and sort of fell into a zone. As soon as he was off the court, he could bounce around and join Bokuto in his “youthful energy,” but even then, when he got into zones, he usually ended up staying late anyway.

The more senior members chalked it up to him just having newbie jitters and insisted they’d all done the same thing upon joining the V. League. ‘It was a rite of passage,’ or so they claimed.

It wasn’t really a new thing for Atsumu. Ever since he was a kid, he’d hyper-fixated on volleyball and making sure his work was perfect. He reveled in proving to people that he was so much smarter than they ever could have imagined. Atsumu had damn near computer-level handwriting and could do brush calligraphy beautifully. He’d felt such a sense of satisfaction when the coach had looked shocked at his completed forms.

He needed others to recognize his skills – lived for their reactions. It wasn’t a new thing for Atsumu to hyper-fixate when struggling to be perfect. Still, if the team was wiling to basically hand him the perfect excuse for his odd habits, he wasn’t going to turn it down.

He was determined to keep up the image and it was going about as well as it had in high school – which is to say, extremely well, thank you very much – right up until it wasn’t because Atsumu woke up and instantly knew it was going to be a Bad Day.

Bad Days had started in his first year of high school, and they were way more than just your run of the mill bad days. They’d only gotten worse as he’d gotten older, lasing longer and increasingly harder to hide.

Sometimes he’d just wake up and _know._ Other times it started with a pointed headache. Either way, by the end of the day he’d have a piercing migraine that took all of his self-control to ignore enough to pretend he was fine and leave to go hide in a dark room.

On the days that didn’t start with a migraine (that was fairly apparent and got people to generally ease off of him a little bit) his skin would start crawling by the time he’d gotten dressed for the day. The tingling would only get worse until he itched something fierce along his upper arms and shoulder area and was generally pretty twitchy. His smiles would appear more plastic, which lead people to assume that he was being dishonest and a bastard again. That wasn’t the case! He just wanted to claw through his skin.

Sometimes his chest would tighten in a way that he’d come to learn was completely psychosomatic. For a while, he’d thought it might be asthma, but it never seemed to affect him when he was on the court. It just felt like there was a wire constricting around his ribcage and made his breaths a little shallower than someone as athletic as him should breathe. This could last anywhere from 5 minutes to 12 hours and he’d never really been able to pinpoint why. It wasn’t like it was purely stress related! Most of the time these breathing-chest-issues happened while he was lying in bed and not doing anything stressful!

Unfortunately, if this started happening in the middle of the day, then it would surely be followed by a truly splitting headache that nothing short of being knocked out would help.

Osamu and the rest of Inarizaki had born witness to only one of these migraines and needless to say, seeing Miya Atsumu actually cry went a long way to them easing up on noise and teasing when he’d pinch the bridge of his nose or rub his temples in a vain effort to dissipate the pain. For once in his life, not _actually_ wanting to be a bother, Atsumu tried to hide his headaches.

That most likely wasn’t going to be an option today.

As soon as he’d opened his eyes, he’d known that it was not going to be a good day. The sheets were damp from sweat and somehow it still scraped against his skin like it was sandpaper. Sometimes the weird hypersensitivity wasn’t that bad but the night before he’d been tossing and turning pretty violently, resulting in a shitty sleep.

But he had team practice today, so he didn’t really have the luxury of wallowing in bed. If he was lucky, the headache would wait to set in until after practice was done. It wouldn’t be a terribly long day, and Atsumu could duck out of any socials by claiming to be expecting a call from Osamu. No one on his team ever talked about Osamu – most only knew about his twin because of the “Miya Twins” moniker still following him. There were dozens of videos online of their almost telepathic connection on the court. The fact that they’d been able to pull off Karasuno’s signature Freak Duo quick even after just seeing it really spoke for itself.

For the first half of practice, he wasn’t performing much differently than normal, but then he flubbed a serve and from then on, his nerves were shot. He couldn’t stand fucking up, and this hate for being anything less than the “monster” his generation of volleyball players were lauded for was what lead him to improve rapidly.

He was no Kageyama, but he too could pull off what the Karasuno setter could; albeit maybe not as fast. But Tobio was still a year out from graduating and getting recruited for a team. He had to make enough of a name for himself before that. He had to make himself indispensable.

As soon as the last year of the monster generation made their way into the pro leagues, the game was going to change even more. With each wave of new monster players (a number that was disappointingly small) as they decided if they wanted to go pro, the V. League world powerhouse balances shifted.

Some players like Sakusa Kiyoomi decided to pursue a university degree before going pro, and therefore played with college circuits instead of pro circuits. Others chose to either quit altogether or merely play as a hobby and way to keep fit like the Guess Monster, Tendou Satori or Bokuto’s boyfriend Akaashi Keiji. Some stayed involved but more peripherally; Bokuto loved to brag about his friend, Nekoma’s conniving ex-captain Kuroo Tetsurou, and his plans on getting involved in the administrative level of the League.

Each member of the Monster Generation had something to live up to, one way or another. They’d all made fairly big names for themselves and all eyes were on them to see what they’d do.

With Japan’s Cannon, Ushiwaka, joining the Adlers at the same time as Bokuto Koutarou joined the Jackals, all eyes were on the two teams to see how this shift in starting lineups would affect the teams. With the Adlers getting Hoshiumi and the Jackals snatching Atsumu, attention and interest in the two teams were once again renewed. There was even speculation about the team Suna ended up joining.

The point is, Atsumu had to make a difference. He had to prove he was worth recruiting. His fellow monsters knew of his abilities, but despite his serves, setters tended to fly a little more under the radar than flashy spikers with unique abilities. Sure, people in their generation and a year above or below knew of the names like Oikawa Tooru, Kageyama Tobio and Miya Atsumu, but it was significantly less than the people who knew of Sakusa Kiyoomi, Ushiwaka or Bokuto Koutarou. Generally, only the people actually interested in volleyball knew about the setters. To his teammates that had years of professional experience, someone fresh out of high school must seem so juvenile.

He tried desperately to shake off the tense feeling, but the most he could do was work through the tight feeling in his chest and wait for it to either dissipate or not. That was outside of his control, but his next serve drill was not.

But it was already too late, and the scales had been tipped by his anxiety and the subsequent tension he began to hold in his shoulders.

He slipped up again, but this time sending a set a little too low, when the first twinges of pain behind his eyes began. It felt like someone had physically grabbed his eyes and twisted them in their sockets. The resounding ache was ignorable, but still had a visible effect on his demeanor. His next few sets were somewhat sloppy although still playable. The spiker just had to work a little harder than they would normally with his tosses.

None of the team commented on his slips other than a casual “don’t mind, don’t mind,” thrown out every now and then. Atsumu was beginning to become visibly frustrated with his own ordinariness. He could _sense_ the coach frowning at him. He began to sweat just a little more.

The pain behind his eyes grew with every smack of the ball, be it on hand or floor. He heard every squeak of shoes on the floor and every scream of success reverberated through his skill like someone throwing a hammer into a rotating steel drum. The lights get brighter and shone like a spotlight on his steadily crumbling figure.

He wasn’t going to make it to the end of practice at this rate.

He could sense the number of worried eyes watching him double with every stumble and tremble of his limbs.

All it took was one more whistle blow and that was it, he was done. Pure agony ripped through his skull and he crumpled to the ground like a sack of bricks. The pain of his knees paled in comparison to the pain dancing behind his eyes.

He fell forward, curling in on himself and closing his eyes as tightly as he could. His hands flew up to cover his ears and pressed harshly on the sides of his head as if he could crush the pain out of his head. He shook and trembled from his curled-up position on the floor, no doubt appearing very small for someone as tall and bulky as he was.

Distantly, he could hear and feel the thunder of footsteps as well as what was probably cries of shock and dismay. He clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth into a vicious grimace bordering on a snarl.

It _hurt_.

He must have made some kind of sound because suddenly there were hands on him trying to flip him over and worried words being yelled at him. It was all just noise at this point, but he couldn’t find the strength to unclench his jaw long enough to tell them what had happened. His temple throbbed and his tongue almost seemed to swell in his mouth. It felt entirely too large and dry. It felt like he was choking on his own organ.

He let out something close to a whine and suddenly the hands stopped pawing at him and were replaced with a gentler touch. He was slowly and gently maneuvered into someone’s lap and coaxed into pressing his head into a muscular chest. Unconsciously, his hands unclenched from his ears and went to fist the t-shirt. He buried his face into the warmth in front of him, for once not caring about how pathetic he looked because all he wanted was for his skull to stop cracking open and the person holding him was very warm.

The grip that the person had on him was firm and encapsulating without feeling like a cage. It felt warm and safe – Atsumu had just enough brain power to wonder if this was what it felt like to be held.

That was a cruel thought. But not exactly wrong. Atsumu had been hugged as a child, but it had stopped sometime around middle school. Him and Osamu had been deemed ‘too old’ for hugs. Osamu never seemed bothered, but Atsumu was a clingy child. He just hadn’t wanted to say anything when Osamu seemed fine. He hadn’t really known that different people had different needs until Bokuto overshared about all the compromises him and Akaashi had made in the last year since they started dating and had discussed moving in with each other.

Atsumu had been content with the athlete hugs and the affection that Bokuto gave so freely, but damn, this was _nice_.

Suddenly, warmth increased as a thick cloth was draped over the back of his head and cloaked him further in darkness. The fabric settled fully over his head and ears, closing all the way to his lower back and creating a small dark space. The pain didn’t quite dissipate, but the tenseness in his frame and lungs eased. He was able to ease up his curl and actually understand the words that were being spoken around him.

“–he seems to be easing up a little but not enough for me to get a good enough grip on him to pick him up. I don’t know if I’d be able to take his full weight either.”

“Hmm, I’m not sure I want to move him quite yet either. Is he still crying?”

He was crying?

He was suddenly aware of how wet his cheeks and the shirt in front of him were.

He hadn’t even noticed. This was a _really_ bad migraine then. Fuck. He was _crying_ on someone. He didn’t even know who.

“Do you think we can get him to drink some water?”

“Once he uncurls a little more. Then Meian-san and I can take him back to his apartment.”

The man who answered was clearly the one holding him. Atsumu could feel the vibrations through his chest as another wave passed over him.

“–which judging by that reaction will be another half-hour at least. He just tensed up again.” The voice lowered in pitch from where it was basically already a whisper. “Meian-san, coach, do you guys think you can call his brother? Migraines like this don’t just come out of nowhere. This much have happened before and Osamu-san might be able to tell us how to help him through this a little better.”

They were going to call Osamu? He wouldn’t really be able to help much. He’d only witnessed the 1 bad migraine, and nothing really helped but sleeping it off. The migraines really weren’t that common, and Osamu certainly didn’t know that they’d gotten a little worse since first year… For all he knows, they’d faded altogether!

“Don’ call ‘Samu,” Atsumu mumbled, sniffling weakly, regretting speaking because of how his head continued to pound. “’e can’ help.”

There was a light touch on the top of his fabric covered head. “Tsum-Tsum?” Oh, so Bokuto was holding him. He relaxed a little more into the hold – Bokuto wouldn’t judge him for crying. Bokuto cried at least once every day. “Do you think you can stand up ow? We want to move you off of the gym floor so you can lay down.”

Atsumu’s upper lip began to tremble at the thought of moving even a little. “I don’t know,” he whispered, smashing his face a little harder into Bokuto’s chest. “Bokuto-san, it hurts.” Gods it was embarrassing to whimper and cry like this, but this migraine was definitely the worst he’s ever had.

“I know,” Bokuto whispered, gently easing Atsumu into a slightly more upright position and earning a groan for his efforts. “But it’ll be more comfortable in your bed and if you drink some water, you’ll feel a little better.”

Atsumu let out a shaky breath. He knew Bokuto was right but getting up seemed so daunting. After taking a moment to muster up some willpower he shifted, pushing himself away from Bokuto and trying to get his feet under himself.

Not missing a beat, Bokuto shifted his arms around Atsumu’s waist. They managed to get partially off the floor, the jacket that had been draped over Atsumu’s head slipping, when another wave of pain washed through him. If his eyes weren’t closed, he would have definitely blacked out. As it was, his knees still buckled and if someone hadn’t lurched forward to take more of Atsumu’s weight, then he probably would have hit the floor. Between Bokuto and whoever the other person was, they were able to support him.

He buried his nose in Bokuto’s neck, his embarrassment temporarily overriding the pain long enough for him to speak again. “’m sorry,” he mumbled. “Didn’t think it’d be this bad.”

Bokuto hummed. It’s okay, ‘Tsumu,” he whispered, carefully wrapping Atsumu’s arm across his shoulders to better support his weight. “Akaashi sometimes gets migraines too, so it’s not that bad. Now come on! Just one foot in front of the other and we’ll get you back to your apartment before ya know it.”

Atsumu nodded softly and slowly but surely they made their way out of the gym.

* * *

Atsumu didn’t know what time it was when he next woke up, but he felt simultaneously worlds better and like he’d died. All the pain had gone away from his head, but his mouth tasted like death and was dry as fuck. He was a little stiff too, but that was probably because he’d fallen asleep curled up in a ball. There was a lukewarm damp cloth over his eyes, and he’d been tucked under a thick comforter. He was still in his practice clothing, but since it was just a t-shirt and athletic shorts, he wasn’t all that uncomfortable in the grand scheme of things.

He pushed the cloth off of his face, taking in the fact that all his blinds were closed, draping the room in darkness. On his coffee table sat his gym bag as well as a Tupperware of something that was probably soup.

Once he had taken a shower and changed his sweaty sheets, he felt a little more human. Then, he went and popped the Tupperware (it was indeed soup) into his microwave. He checked his phone and found an email from the coach telling him he didn’t have to come to practice the next day if he wasn’t feeling up to it (so it looked like he’d only slept until 9 PM instead of the entire night, which was a relief) as well as the team group chat absolutely blowing up with concerned messages and speculation about what happened.

> **Atsumu:**
> 
> Hey guys, I’m sorry about today
> 
> **Bokuto:**
> 
> nah dude
> 
> don’t worry about it!
> 
> **Meian:**
> 
> Are you feeling better, Miya-san?
> 
> **Inunaki:**
> 
> dude that was like freakin scary are you okay?
> 
> **Atsumu:**
> 
> Haha, I just get migraines sometimes
> 
> They usually aren’t that bad I swear
> 
> **Bokuto:**
> 
> of course!
> 
> Ya know Akaashi sometimes gets migraines when he overworks himself
> 
> **Meian:**
> 
> Please look after yourself
> 
> There’s no need to work too hard
> 
> **Adriah:**
> 
> Don’t kill yourself kid
> 
> You’ll burn out
> 
> **Atsumu:**
> 
> !!! You’re only a little bit older than me!!
> 
> **Adriah:**
> 
> Irrelevant
> 
> **Inunaki:**
> 
> wow big words
> 
> but seriously dude
> 
> you’re okay right?
> 
> **Atsumu:**
> 
> yeah
> 
> I just had to sleep it off
> 
> can't be helped

He grabbed his soup, pouring it into his huge, designated soup mug that Osamu had gotten him as a birthday gift at some point, and made his way back to his bed and nest of blankets.

He felt warmth bloom deep in his chest. It was nice to be cared for so openly.

He still felt a little guilty for crying like a baby in front of them – he still didn’t know how much time he’d lost before they’d somehow gotten him back to his apartment – but other than freaking them out a bit, they’d taken it all in stride.

Joining the MSBY Black Jackals was probably one of the best decisions he’d made in his life.

He snatched his stuffed fox and cuddled it close to his chest, content to drink his soup in bed knowing that the next day he’d be welcomed back to practice with open arms and everything would be back to normal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, I really wanted to thank everyone who left such fucking nice comments on the first chapter. I wasn't really expecting this story to do anywhere near as well as it has (and considering it's only sitting at like 600 hits rn that's saying something, ya know?) and I'm really thankful for everyone who reads the absolute garbage that I produce as a coping mechanism to not have panic attacks in class because I'm an anxious bitch
> 
> And!!! As a side note, if any of y'all are Danny Phantom fans too, I did some writing for a Danny Phantom zine, if you want to head to twitter (@casperhighzine) to check it out. There's a lot of really skilled artists that worked on it alongside me and I'm pretty excited for it ngl.
> 
> Don't hesitate to suggest things or message me if ya wanna chat! (my email is on my dashboard cuz I currently don't have other socials that aren't linked to like... my real life)


	3. you crave the applause yet hate the attention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sakusa and Hinata join the Jackals!
> 
> (Fun reminder that this will develop into SakuAtsu I swear)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this one is a bit more meandery than the last chapter but we're re-entering the angst (did we ever really leave?) and we're heading towards some more stupid gameshow 'fluff' stuff that is turned into angst via Atsumu misinterpreting EVERYTHING.

It wasn’t always easy, but with some hard work (for once on both sides of the equation), Atsumu grew and strengthened the relationship he had with his new team. It took a couple years for them to really settle into a routine, but it was well worth it.

Atsumu continued to have down days every now and then, but never down enough for his team to notice, and if they were, he claimed a migraine and wallowed in his apartment until he felt less empty. Most of the time he would eventually develop a headache so he wasn’t even really lying.

There were just days where he couldn’t be around people. He just needed to lay in bed in the dark and cuddle his damn fox plushy.

He’d gotten a bit better about texting Osamu at least once a week, but he’d always been forgetful, and he’d developed a distaste for bothering Osamu with ‘trivial’ things. He didn’t always think they were trivial – like that one time he’d called Osamu because he realized that he’d had a massive crush on Kita back in high school and was subsequently going through a gay panic because he hadn’t even realized he was into guys in that way. (He’d always thought that he was just greedy for affection and got along better with dudes.) And Osamu had merely responded with “really? We all knew this; next thing you’re gonna tell me is that you don’t know you have one on Sakusa.”

And Atsumu had been sent into another panic spiral.

Had he really been that oblivious? To just not realize he wasn’t straight? It wasn’t like he was homophobic – he’d known Osamu was gay and dating Suna (and that Kageyama was totally pining for that annoying orange middle blocker of his), but he’d just never questioned his own feelings before. He had been purely focused on being the best volleyball player that he could be. Looking back, he’d been a little more greedy with Kita’s affection, but he’d never considered that it could be a crush.

And then Osamu had to go and throw in yet another curve ball! Had he really been hung up on Sakusa of all people and just… not realized it?

Sure, he religiously checked the Youth Camp group chat whenever a conversation was going, but he just didn’t want to miss the rare times Sakusa messaged! He gushed a couple times about Sakusa’s techniques, but he was one of like 2 people he’d ever vowed to set for and for good reason. He hungered to bring out the best in spikers, and as one of the best, he wanted to hoard skilled players. Besides, it was important to know how his fellow monsters played because the odds were that they’d all end up on the national team. If Atsumu wanted a shot at beating Tobio, he’d have to have the player knowledge advantage.

Maybe he focused on Sakusa more than players like Ushiwaka even though he was still in college volleyball circuits. Maybe every now and then he stalked his social media accounts. So what.

…Fuck. One of the first things he’d ever noticed about Sakusa was that he was pretty. That’s not too platonic of him considering plenty of other players could be considered pretty and he never really commented on it. He’d cursed Sakusa’s curls more than once – and in front of Osamu too!

No fucking wonder he didn’t want to deal with Atsumu’s gay panic. He must have been more obnoxious than normal.

He had a crush on Sakusa Kiyoomi (his apparent infatuation with Kita having allegedly faded after the Youth Training Camp according to Osamu and _Suna_ ) and now he had no clue what to do with himself.

They weren’t _feelings_. He just thought Sakusa was pretty and could step all over Atsumu and Atsumu would probably thank him. He couldn’t have _feelings_ because he didn’t really _know_ Sakusa. They’d seen each other so fleetingly in person and throughout that entire time, Sakusa had been nothing but mean. He’d ceaselessly insulted Atsumu, glaring at him like dirt. It would be messed up for him to have anything other than a physical and maybe intellectual attraction to him.

He was good at volleyball and gorgeous, but he hated Atsumu. Pretending otherwise would just be foolish. Atsumu was so painfully over being foolish.

Besides, he didn’t even know how to pine for someone. Sakusa was as unattainable as a crush could possibly get and it would be stupid to fall for someone who saw him as nothing more than an annoyance.

He promised himself he wouldn’t do it and continued on with his comfortable routine. Atsumu was comfortable living in denial as much as Osamu insisted otherwise. Atsumu loved denial. He didn’t have to worry about what he insisted didn’t exist.

Osamu called him stupid and Suna rolled his eyes before calling Atsumu Osamu’s problem.

Joke’s on him because Atsumu’d been Osamu’s problem since he was born and going to change that. Atsumu was an expert at being an annoyance.

He kept this resolve all the way until the Black Jackals held tryouts and suddenly not only was Atsumu dealing with Sakusa again, but Tobio’s shrimp was also back in the country.

(Fucking hell. Tobio already never stopped sending him stupid cat pictures and as soon as he found out Hinata was with the Jackals, he would never know peace from Tobio’s weird helicopter parenting.)

Atsumu’s life was going to become exponentially more difficult. Fantastic.

Well, no better time to get over a crush like the present.

Both of them were shoo-ins for starting lineup, and while he hadn’t seen Hinata play in the last few years, he was pretty confident he knew how to set to him. Sakusa was as gifted as always. He would be no issue on the court. Atsumu spared a moment to feel a little guilty about the pro players who would now be relegated to pinch servers (ha, as if) and emergency subs, but the final players of the “monster generation” were finally here to play. What did they think was going to happen?

It was time for the Jackals to finally overtake the Adlers for champions.

The showdown between Kageyama and Hinata that the two had been waiting for since they were in middle school, apparently…

Man, Tobio would be so smug if he won again and Hinata was there. Lucky for Atsumu, Sakusa and Hinata proved they’d earned their titles of “monsters” in try outs and they were gladly welcomed onto the team. Atsumu practically salivated at the chance to try out the minus tempo quick with the originator. It was a quick that required complete trust from the spiker in the setter. There was nothing that made Atsumu feel more powerful and in control.

It’s why he loved being a setter enough to actually ask (demand) it of Osamu. He loved the rush of being the control-tower, the one who directed the game. He was valuable and had to read both the other side and his own. It required an insane amount of focus and ability. Atsumu wasn’t just any setter. He was the best high school setter in Japan of the “monster generation.” Tobio had briefly surpassed him, but now Atsumu had new weapons in his arsenal again.

Atsumu had a devastating jump serve and a delightfully frustrating float serve. He scored service ace after service ace and made opponents desperate to score a point and break his serve streak. He made seemingly impossible sets, always hungry for the chance to do _more._

With the addition of Sakusa and Hinata, it was like new life had been breathed into both Bokuto and Atsumu. It seemed to both impress and terrify the rest of the Jackals, but Coach Foster seemed almost as hungry to reach further as the “monster generation” was.

While Sakusa brought a devastating spin and power in his serves due to his freaky flexible wrists – something Atsumu had learned from Motoya was due to a disability – and Hinata brought his insane stamina and jumps, Bokuto continued to improve his angles and power shots. Hinata had improved his standard techniques and even had some crazier ideas due to having spent years training in beach volleyball of all things. Sakusa was a very reliable defense and had insane control over the ball. These things pushed Bokuto to work that much harder when spiking. It even made him work harder at his other skills.

Hinata brought up Karasuno’s unconventional setting attacks (using their libero; having more than one setter and switching positions) and suddenly there was an emphasis on emergency set drills. Atsumu kind of had mixed feelings about it, but he got a chance to spike instead of just dumping the ball over the net so he was excited about that. He liked spiking too but dumping the ball right in front of the other team’s setter was always fun.

Atsumu himself had begun incorporating more exercises that worked on his flexibility into his routine. The more bad receives he could turn into serviceable sets the better. That meant getting low balls and being able to contort his body and hold strong. His thighs killed him after every time he finished his workout and stretch routine, but the newfound flexibility was worth it.

He’d even taken a few pole dancing classes on a dare from Bokuto and found it greatly strengthened his core.

But while the addition of Hinata and Sakusa was good for the team, for Atsumu personally it was not so… constructive.

As soon as the tryouts were over, Atsumu had gone back to his unit and pulled out his straight razor for the first time since high school.

The routine of a pro athlete didn’t really allow for much opportunity to cut through his flesh. Torn skin on his shoulders shown in the rare moments someone caught him shirtless could be explained away as a particularly exciting one-night stand. Cuts on his hips or thighs? Especially fresh ones definitely could not.

Still, he couldn’t resist the urge as soon as that try-out had been over. He’d torn into the skin of his hips (thighs were no longer an option due to his athletic meds) frantically, struggling with the itch on his shoulders and back since his hands were already too shaky with the razor to risk multitasking.

He needed the grounding pain but he couldn’t afford to be more stupid. He knew pulling out the razor at all was stupid, but he was very much overwhelmed and unable to handle anything but the sting of the sharp blade. He _needed_.

He’d probably regret it in the morning, but in that moment all that mattered was the blood covering his hands.

He felt numb.

He’d robotically cleaned the wounds, put cream on them, and then bandaged them in order to not get blood on his sheets.

He’d gone to practice as normal.

* * *

Sakusa Kiyoomi was an asshole.

This was something Atsumu had previously been aware of, but when Sakusa stood next to Hinata – who was human sunshine just like Bokuto and Kageyama claimed – it was all the more obvious. Where Hinata smiled, yelled happily, and handed out hugs like he had an endless supply, Sakusa scoffed, quipped and sprayed you with disinfectant. He poke fun at insecurities in a flippant tone and acted above everyone.

He seemed to have a better handle on his germophobic habits – he didn’t wear a mask as much and resisted the urge to spray people with disinfectant upon merely entering a room. Now it merely happened when someone was particularly gross or annoying. This person usually ended up being Atsumu even if Bokuto also got more than his fair share of condescending ‘ews’ and spray downs.

Sakusa _was_ more social than Atsumu remembered him being back at the Youth Camp. He was about as active in the Jackals chat as he had been with the Youth Camp gang, but he did attend some dinners and movie nights. Yes, he would display his habits a bit more, but no one gave him too much shit since they were all just glad he hadn’t gone to isolate himself in his apartment.

All in all, it was evident that Sakusa had done a lot of growing while at university.

However, Sakusa seemed to have it out for Atsumu. Every joke Atsumu made would be met with a smart quip from the taller man. Every dumb moment he had, Sakusa was always there to witness it and scoff. When Sakusa was feeling more sociable, he’d send one of the memes from the Youth Camp chat to the Jackals chat with the damn eyes emoji – because he was the type of psychopath who used emojis instead of kaomojis like the rest of them – and wait for everyone else to lose their minds.

Way too many movie nights had devolved into watching The Bee Movie for Atsumu’s liking.

(At least they weren’t comparing him to the rapist, serial killer Sangwoo like Inarizaki liked to laugh about. Something about the bleached hair, eye bags, and his maniacal cackle. Atsumu really didn’t want to know.)

Still, Sakusa just went after Atsumu. Oh, Atsumu gave as good as he got, but no one had ever accused Atsumu of being nice.

It bothered Atsumu that Sakusa was so cold. He’d had a couple years to get used to Bokuto’s warmth and the rest of the team’s indulgences. Sakusa was like getting thrown right back into who he was in high school. He very much didn’t like who he was in high school. He didn’t much care for who he was now – especially since Sakusa seemed to find it so offensive.

There certainly was something about having the object of your affection see you as nothing more than a nuisance. Really did wonders for his self-esteem.

He’d always been disillusioned about Sakusa’s virtues, but that awareness hadn’t done much to dull his crush. If he kept going like this, he might end up in real trouble and catch real feelings for the man. That wouldn’t be ideal.

And because Atsumu had shitty coping mechanisms – Atsumu wasn’t completely airheaded, he knew what he was doing was pretty far from okay, but he also had no willingness to do anything about that – he decided to hide the stupid shit he did from everyone.

Yeah, Bokuto and the other Jackals already knew about his headaches and probably knew that there were days he felt more down than others. He hated that they knew, but if he got overwhelmed or had a migraine, then he was kind of fucked and couldn’t handle things by himself in a timely manner. He would shut down when sounds got too overwhelming and he was basically useless if his headache made it to migraine status.

Bokuto really was a godsend with how he was able to quickly and discretely catch Atsumu’s budding migraines. He’d only had to intervene thrice more since that first migraine, but he’d been an absolute angel about it. Akaashi had even been a huge help in suggesting things to ease the frequency and severity. He eased Atsumu’s guilt by saying it gave Bokuto practice in observation for when Akaashi had a migraine and went non-verbal.

All the same, Atsumu was still embarrassed about talking about his down days and headaches with the people on his team and they’d already born witness to them. Hinata and Sakusa hadn’t seen any of that yet and still had this image of Atsumu in his prime; skilled and unaffected. He didn’t want to ruin that – at least not before they faced the Adlers. He needed them to trust him. Sakusa would probably doubt his tosses if he knew he could be taken out by a migraine.

The rest of the team were still oblivious to his tendency to scratch until he bled when he was upset or anxious. They didn’t know about the healing scars across his hips and upper thighs. He’d been able to hide them over the last few years pretty well. No one really questioned why he preferred to shower alone when even Sakusa showered around the others sometimes. Most of the time he showered early to avoid them all being gross, but he typically wouldn’t lose his shit if he had to shower after someone else. HE would just turn up his nose and act a little pissy.

Atsumu had been able to avoid it and no one was exactly staring at his shoulders. He never wore anything smaller than a t-shirt and athletic shorts around them.

He’d seen Sakusa give him a bit of a side eye at that, but just like Sakusa’s own habits, Atsumu’s had been present when they first met each other. With the rest of the Jackals not so much as commenting on it, neither did Sakusa or Hinata.

Atsumu doubted that Hinata didn’t even notice. He reminded Atsumu of Bokuto, and he’d learned that Bokuto had hidden depths.

But then again, there was a reason Bokuto’s counterpart was Akaashi and Hinata’s was Kageyama.

Atsumu had been lucky to avoid a migraine since the tryouts. He’d had a few minor headaches that’s gotten him a few side-eyes from Meian and Bokuto but had gone unnoticed by everyone else.

Since tryouts, he’d sunk into a string of light-to-medium bad days. He felt conflicted because Hinata and Sakusa joining the Jackals was overall a good thing. Not only did that mean Bokuto and Atsumu were no longer as outnumbered as they used to be and the Jackals got two killer players. They were two spikers that Atsumu had promised to set for! Atsumu would get to fulfill that promise.

But Atsumu also felt so much more pressure to be impressive. He needed to prove he deserved to set for the likes of Sakusa and Hinata. He was obsessed with training and yet he just… couldn’t seem to put his heart into things the way he had a mere 6 months before. More mornings than not, he woke up feeling empty and down. He just felt no energy or positive emotions. He didn’t feel particularly distraught or upset, but he didn’t exactly feel anything above neutral at most.

Everything he did drained his energy so fast that it sent his head spinning. After every practice all he could do was collapse in his bed and wait until he passed out. Every meal was a fight because it just tasted like ash.

Atsumu was a dramatic bitch and a good actor. He knew how to smile and joke and fake being excited. He could pretend everything was normal like a champ! Not even Osamu had ever noticed (or called him on it) that he wasn’t normal. If his own twin couldn’t tell when he was acting normal or faking it, then there was no way Sakusa or Hinata would know he was acting any different. They would just assume any discrepancies were because of the passage of time or a singular isolated off day. Bokuto is probably the only person who would be around Atsumu enough to notice, but Bokuto, while surprisingly perceptive in some ways, was also infamously oblivious. He got distracted easily, and with Atsumu acting like normal, he didn’t have much to pick up on.

Yeah, Atsumu’s smile was sometimes a little too plastic, but he laughed everything off and was known to be a dramatic enough person that it didn’t raise any eyebrows. If Atsumu was acting like normal and bantering with Sakusa, then surely he was fine. Look at him joking and laughing with his fellow “monsters”! He was totally fine! He must just be acting more Atsumu™ than normal because he had more people he’d known in high school.

He’d only gotten a few pointed looks, but that was mainly when he was being more of an asshole than he should be. Like when he poked a little too hard at Sakusa for a missed serve.

His general melancholy didn’t affect his playing too much, and he continued to improve… just not quite at the same rate as when he wasn’t having a down day.

It briefly became a problem when they had a promotional photoshoot to show off their new starting lineup.

That meant getting into uniform and even involving hair and makeup! Seeing Sakusa’s face when the makeup artist approached him with foundation and hairspray sent Atsumu into a hyena cackling fit. He was having a neutral day, and that was pretty much as good as it was getting lately, so he was going to take it for the blessing that it was.

Sports photography was hard and the veritable legion that was the photography team was going to be watching and snapping photos at all times and from every angle. He couldn’t really afford to have any slip ups today. They were taking some full body profile shots as well as action shots like Atsumu’s serve and their quicks with Inunaki saving some. That would be a challenge and a half and if Atsumu was hyper-focused on how he looked, the photos would turn out awful.

Most of them weren’t strangers to photoshoots – Atsumu had appeared in multiple issues of Volleyball Monthly along with Bokuto and Sakusa when they were the top 5 aces in the country. Out of all of them, Hinata was the only one who hadn’t experienced the professional shoot.

The solo shots went fine and Atsumu had to admit that he had a lot of fun when they did the group shots. The promotional campaign wanted to focus on the two generations of players they had, so they did a full team shot but they also did a separate set with Meian, Adriah, Inunaki, and Barnes, as well as the “monster generation”. Atsumu got to play up the personality that he’d become known for and Sakusa couldn’t say shit because the photographer were loving it.

The monsters all had wild and distinct personalities and their fans loved it. Coach Foster and their PR agent were certain that Sakusa and Hinata would be just as much of a hit as Atsumu and Bokuto.

Even the action shots were fun! They got to try out techniques multiple times and just have fun with them. Coach didn’t snap when they went out of bounds or when the receive wasn’t clean. It was all about what was visible in the shot. Promotional _photoshoot_ , not _video_. It was even done in a timely fashion.

They were all wiping off their makeup and making plans for a movie night when Coach Foster and the PR agent called him over to where the photographers were going to where the photographers were going through the photos to see which ones they would go with. Typically they’d show the team the spreads before they were sent out, but they rarely were shown them so quickly.

That meant there was an issue.

Atsumu’s heart began to pound in his chest.

He jogged over, waving away Bokuto and Hinata, calling over his shoulder for the rest of the team to go on without him and that he’d catch up when he could. Only Meian and Sakusa seemed a bit bothered by this change in routine, but no one said anything, and they continued to file into the changing rooms boisterously.

“Coach?” Atsumu asked uncertainly, plastering a nervous smile on his face. He comes to a stop beside the PR agent and behind the photographer. “What’ya need?”

Coach Foster had a serious face on as he turned the monitor (that they’d somehow set up in the gym) towards Atsumu. “Now son, I don’t want to make a big deal out of nothing, but can you explain these/” He points to a place on the screen that had been zoomed in. It was an action shot where Atsumu had gotten beneath a low ball to set a minus tempo set to Hinata who was probably visible in the shot. His shorts had risen up on his thighs almost all the way up to his hips. The thing that Coach Foster was pointing at was the visible scars on his upper thighs that were very obviously self-inflicted.

Atsumu froze. Somehow, he’d just never imagined that he’d get questioned and he’d subsequently planned absolutely nothing to say that could make this not a big deal.

“You can photoshop that out, right? He asked nervously. The PR agent gave him a side-eye along with the photographer.

“Yes, but Miya,” Coach Foster began, “I’m going to need an explanation.”

Atsumu grimaced. “They’re old.”

“Miya.”

Atsumu wiped off the rest of his makeup. Avoiding the coach’s gaze. The shorts hadn’t ridden up enough to reveal the still healing cuts and thankfully only showed the healed over ones from high school. He could pass off the ‘that was a while ago’ story.

“It won’t affect the team.”

The PR agent sighed before turning to the photographer. “We’ll need to edit them out. Would someone be able to see them if they took photos at a regular game?”

The photographer pursed her lips, clearly displeased but still make a note to edit the photos of Atsumu. “They shouldn’t be able to. We’re able to get much closer and use much higher quality equipment. It would honestly be weirder to a photographer if he covered it with tape or something else.”

Atsumu winced again. That… didn’t sound great.

“Sorry, Coach,” he mumbled, twisting the edge of his jersey in his fists. “I didn’t think the shorts rose that high.”

Coach Foster sighed. “It’s not your fault, Miya. I would’ve preferred to know, but it _is_ your personal business, and it hadn’t affected anything until now. As long as you’re not continuing this destructive behaviour–”

“No, Coach,” Atsumu lied, shaking his head emphatically. “But…” he shifted awkwardly, “if my jersey shifted around my neck or upper arms…” he trailed off.

The PR agent groans. “Anything else we need to be on the lookout for?”

Atsumu demurely shook his head.

“It’s alright, son. I know you kept this a secret. Just know that your team is here for you and can be an effective support system. It’s important for you to take care of yourself,” Coach Foster said.

All Atsumu can do is nod. “Do you need anything else, sir?”

“No, Miya. You’re free to go.”

Atsumu nodded, biting his lip and scurrying to the changing room. He really wasn’t feeling up to hanging out with the team. He’d have to make up some kind of excuse about a family issue he had to handle.

Fuck.

He’d have to be more careful about what he wore and who saw what parts of his body for the next while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So guess who got a twitter! Come chat with me (as I post about my writing escapades in general) @uaigneach_klein
> 
> (Also, want to give a massive thank you to everyone who has commented on the last two chapters. By the time this is posted I'll have responded to the comments that I felt I could respond to with words (as in not just a simple "thank you") but I wanted to add an extra shout out here for all of them. Comments mean the world to me, and it boggles my mind how people genuinely enjoy my weird writing style. Seriously, y'all mean the world to me.)
> 
> Also, A my dude, if you're reading this (which I hope you're not) you're not allowed to poke fun at me for my author's notes and being sappy! The fact that you found my ao3 account at all makes my soul leave my body on the daily. The fact that we’re technically writing a joint fic universe means nothing in the face of you finding the account that I’ve been writing on since 2015.


	4. so much more than a rat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who's ready for some light brotherly angst (to set up later heavier angst) and some cracky game show shenanigans? It's watermelon crushing time!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: Shit, forgot that the watermelon sequence was inspired by "crushed" by citruslemonade, please go read their fic it's great
> 
> Haha! Sorry this update took longer than the last few, but it's also 7k so I hope that makes up for it. 
> 
> (Also, there's a link somewhere near the end of this chapter. You should like... watch the videos guys. Get a nicer visual since I didn't decide to describe too much. All credit for that goes to the creator)

After the promotional photoshoot, Atsumu was much more careful about acting normal. Coach would be watching to confirm that Atsumu wasn’t continuing to hurt himself. He had to act normal. Any kind of wince would be noted and there would always be doubt as to the cause of the ache.

This is why Atsumu didn’t want anyone to find out, even in the years in between his use of his razor. People would look at him differently and he can’t handle that. He can’t stand the thought of him being seen as weak.

He’d just… needed to clear his head. He’d tucked the razor away anyways; it was just a moment of weakness. Everyone had moments. It didn’t make him weak.

His shoulders were itchier than ever, and he found himself mindlessly scratching at them in practice to the point of welts. He managed to stop before they bled. He couldn’t hide blood under his fingernails when Sakusa was hyper-fixated on the cleanliness of each players’ hands (at least whenever _he_ had a bad day).

(Sakusa’s bad days typically set off Atsumu’s own anxiety which was becoming a worrying pattern. Having not one, but two starting players being twitchy and nervous did not make for good chemistry for the team. It didn’t help that Sakusa somehow seemed to pick up on Atsumu’s anxiety and snapped about it. All in all, those days were very tense.)

Atsumu’d had to extend his post-practice stretch routine due to how tense he was becoming.

He really could use the razor, but the line son his hips had just headed enough for Atsumu to ease up on the paranoia. The average person wouldn’t know that they were all that fresh since these were pretty shallow. His thighs had settled at a thickness so they wouldn’t pull too much as they’d healed and become bigger scars.

Not that that would make any difference, his hips and upper thighs were already covered in pale scar tissue. What were a few more?

As training progressed, Atsumu began to have less and less down days. He continued with only minor headaches and the Jackals were getting stronger and stronger. By all logic, things were going well.

Then the promotional photos actually came out on the Black Jackals social media.

They’d gone predominantly with the action shots, although the “monster” photo had been kept in the lineup as well.

They looked good. Sakusa stood regally behind them, his mop of black curls poised artfully to make him look ethereal. He had a look of slight disdain on his face that just exuded superiority. Bokuto stood slightly in front, putting them at similar heights. His hair was spiked up and accentuated the sharp, smug grin he had plastered on his face. It was a grin that dared onlookers to challenge him, secure in the knowledge he would win.

Hinata was bent slightly at the knees, standing in front of Sakusa and Bokuto. He had his arms and hands up by his chest curled into claws to mimic the MSBY mascot. In contrast, he had a bright, beaming smile plastered on his face. He smiled like he was the sun itself, instantly brightening the picture. Atsumu was also hunched over slightly with his hands up to turn claws like Hinata. He was grinning with a wide-open mouth, his tongue hanging out savagely in the way that had become his signature since he joined the Jackals. He looked surprisingly good, standing with the others. His eyes were alight with mischief.

Despite Atsumu’s many issues, he knew that he was attractive. Both him and Atsumu had nice symmetrical features taking the most attractive parts from their parents. Both twins had been lauded as handsome, Atsumu had just had a trash personality while Osamu’s complimented their looks. Were it not for how he acted, he would have no doubt received just as many confessions. He looked good and he knew how to use it.

He’d modelled before for sports magazines and knew hot to look good in photos. It wasn’t like he was unfamiliar with sports photoshoots. Besides, the people he was posing with were radiant. They all looked impressive. It made him want to suggest Greek gods for the team Halloween costume this year.

Sakusa would make a stunning Hades and Atsumu would gladly wear flower crowns to be his Persephone.

The other photos were beautiful too. They all looked so impressive; serious and challenging, as if daring people to get in their way.

Atsumu was not surprised at all to see all the thirst comments drowning out any intelligent ones.

The photo with Atsumu doing that low set had made it to the final set after all. Just like he’d predicted, Hinata was there in the background jumping impossibly high with full confidence that Atsumu would set him the minus tempo ball just like Kageyama had for years. Atsumu himself had an intense look on his face, his lips pulled back into a harsh smirk, flashing his teeth.

In the grand scheme of things, his shorts didn’t really draw that much more of a problem with the raw photo. Whoever had edited the photo did a good job of editing out of all the would-have-been visible scars. If Atsumu didn’t’ know the exact position of every scar, he would have no clue they even existed.

There was no scars showing in any other picture either.

No one on the team had made any comments to him, so it was looking like Coach Foster and the PR agent had kept their mouths shut. This should have been a relief, but somehow, whatever good mood Atsumu had managed to find just seemed to evaporate as he continued to stare at the photos.

He felt sick to his stomach, like he wanted to claw the organ out from his body.

But it was 2 AM and he had practice in the afternoon. He couldn’t afford to cut into his thighs and instead began furiously scratching at his upper arms. The skin was already red and raw and verging on unexplainable which was far from ideal. Atsumu couldn’t stop trembling. He didn’t even know why this was happening. Tremors continued to wrack his body as he curled tighter into a ball on his bed.

His phone screen cast a dull glow from where it lay beside him buried in the sheets. Before he even realized what he was doing, he’d already pulled up Osamu contact information and hit call. He didn’t really know what he was expecting, but it was kind of sad that it _wasn’t_ his brother picking up the phone.

_“’Tsumu? What the fuck are you calling me at 3 in the morning for?”_

Atsumu’s words caught in his throat, creating a weird strangled noise.

Where Osamu had previously sounded annoyed and slightly groggy, he suddenly sounded so much softer.

_“’Tsumu? I’m going to need you to answer me.”_

Atsumu took a deep shuddering breath. “Sorry,” he choked out. “Didn’ mean to call ya so late in the night. I don’–” he broke off, hearing the strange tremble in his own voice. Shit. Osamu already knew that something was up since he called in the middle of the night, but dammit, why did he have to sound so pathetic?

_“Atsumu, you’re really worrying me here.”_

Ah. Using his actual first name and not their childish nicknames. Atsumu squished his eyes shut tightly. If he hung up on Osamu, he’d just worry him even more. It was too late now, besides, he had yet to stop shaking. “Can you… can you just talk?” he mumbles, hating the desperation that bled into his voice.

_“Okay, ‘Tsumu. Okay.”_

“Okay.”

* * *

Osamu had given him until after the practice before bugging him about what the hell the call was about. Atsumu had deflected, claiming that it was just a nightmare that freaked him out. Osamu said he’d thought Atsumu’d grown out of that issue. Atsumu hadn’t know what to say in response, so he’d just kept uncharacteristically quiet. Osamu definitely hadn’t seemed reassured at all, but since this was the first time since high school that he’d done this, he let it go for now.

Atsumu was kicking himself for calling Osamu. His body had just done it automatically – in that moment, he’d desperately wanted his older brother.

Atsumu avoided Onigiri Miya for the next two weeks. Game season was picking him up. He was busy.

It was true. The team hadn’t been able to go out to eat during that entire time.

With the promotional photoshoot doing so well, they’d gotten some interview show offers. Everyone wanted to know more about the MSBY “monsters” and see more of how Sakusa and Hinata interacted with Atsumu and Bokuto. Atsumu and Bokuto were both fairly popular, but they’d limited their media presence due to their PR agent not wanting to deal with the disaster that they’d undoubtedly produce. That was fair, but with demand for the 4 so high, they could no longer avoid it.

That was fine with Atsumu. He’d known that he wouldn’t be able to avoid the media forever. He was just dreading how it would thrust them into the spot light that much more.

(The fact that _Miya Atsumu_ was the one dreading media attention would surely send the Inarizaki folks into a conniption if they knew.)

He’d been able to avoid too much media scrutiny until now. People had generally been sated with the info they gleamed from the Volleyball Monthly pieces. That mostly covered playstyle though, and these interview shoes were more akin to drama television.

People may have enjoyed his cocky attitude before, but surely, that tolerance was about to run its course.

Their first scheduled appearance would be with a popular show that commonly had idol groups on for interviews. It was a little odd – especially since they were pro athletes – but with how the Jackals were marketing them, they were more comparable to idols than even other members of the Jackals team. With both Bokuto and Atsumu having taken some minor modelling contracts/sponsors over the last two years, they were definitely used to the unconventional.

Luckily, the show was professional, and the PR agent (who Atsumu had learned did in fact have a name and preferred being addressed as Takahashi-san as opposed to Agent-san) was able to get them the list of the okayed question instead of just springing the questions on them after privately okaying them with the studio. It was always annoying, being blindsided by questions. No matter how many interviews they did, Atsumu would always underestimate the audacity of reporters and talk show hosts.

They were pro volleyball players, you’d think that they’d ask questions at least vaguely related to their profession instead of their personal lives.

For someone who liked to talk a lot, Atsumu had always remained tight-lipped about things he felt no one had business knowing. He’d rarely even talked about stuff with Osamu. Yes, he blathered on about a mean barista or what the idiot squad (which Atsumu was a part of) had been up to that day. But he didn’t tell Osamu that he still got migraines or _anything_ about his insecurities. Well, anything that wasn’t related to volleyball. He’d tried when he had his gay panic and Osamu hadn’t been all that helpful. Atsumu didn’t want to decrease Osamu’s opinion any further than he already had.

After all, Atsumu was the king of hitting rock bottom and then pulling out a pickaxe, ready to dig an even deeper hole. He was special like that.

The personal shit didn’t just affect him either.

Even without him ever outright bringing it up, pretty much everyone who cared enough to know knew that Atsumu hadn’t really been pleased with his twin quitting volleyball. Atsumu’s persona was well-known Atsumu was not.

Osamu knew most of the important things. He’d been there for almost all of it. It was because of that that Atsumu didn’t really know how to talk about stuff with people. Osamu and always just _known_. It wasn’t like he ever talked about his life with his parents. They were always so quick to scold that Atsumu just didn’t talk to them all that often in the first place.

He’d never really told anyone about his problems. Bokuto and Akaashi just recognized his migraines and headaches. The closest he’d ever gotten was when Coach Foster and Takahashi had questioned him about his scars and that had sent him into a tailspin. He had even danced around the issue!

Lying was second nature to him – this was objectively not a good thing. He lied as easily as he breathed, and people believed him most of the time.

Interviewers, however, were an uncontrollable element and that made Atsumu itch. They were just as good (or better) as him with words and they had more influence. If they ran rings around him, then there wasn’t a lot he could do. If he put his foot in his mouth or slipped up, then everyone would know almost overnight and there would be no hiding from the backlash. If the cameras picked up his scars, then Takahashi couldn’t censor it. There would be questions.

In recent years, he definitely hadn’t been as careful as he should have been with his stress relief and his anxiety tics. Yes, scratching was something that mainly caused short term marks, but he’d been digging into his shoulders for so long he’d torn deep enough to leave light but permanent marks. They generally didn’t draw too much attention and didn’t stick out enough that he’d avoided shirtless modeling contracts due to it being an ongoing habit and the red patches of wells being deemed unsightly.

He was now paranoid about his hips and thighs.

There’s almost no reason for him to think anyone would see those in a television interview since they didn’t exceed his briefs. The issue mainly lay in games and practices when his stretches shifted and bunched until the bottom of the scars were visible. The shorts for the MSBY Black Jackals were shorter than the ones that Inarizaki had used. Atsumu couldn’t say he disliked it since they allowed him freer movement in a larger range. It just made things a little harder for him.

There’s really no reason why he’d have to show his upper thighs at an interview. He should be fine.

He just had a bad feeling.

That feeling only grew he saw that Takahashi had okayed questions about his new training regiment for flexibility and core strength. He knew about the thirst tweets about his thighs, but were they really going to make him try and crush a watermelon with his thighs? He’d have to change shorts.

When he’d brought up this concern with Takahashi, the older man had just said that it was highly requested fan service, not out of the ordinary for the show (not even the first or fifth time the show had done that particular challenge), and that they’d have a change of clothes ready. What really concerned Atsumu was when Takahashi mentioned a surprise and having spoken with Coach Foster.

Obviously, Takahashi wasn’t going to budge. Atsumu would just have to suck it up.

Only Sakusa voiced an additional complaint and that was more of a request to make sure everything was sanitary. He’d deal with not weening a mask, but he’d prefer to avoid touching things as much as possible.

Since the interview wanted to include a confirmation about Sakusa’s mysophobia, they were much more willing to make accommodations.

(Although not making accommodations as simple as making sure things were clean would be an absolute dick move.)

Honestly, everyone other than Sakusa voiced their excitement in seeing him try to crush a watermelon using his thighs.

Atsumu was distinctly less enthused. That level of enthusiasm carried on right up to the actual interview.

* * *

“So, Miya-san,” one of the hosts said, smiling slyly at him. “We all know that while Bokuto-san is the beefiest among you, that you’ve got the best thighs.”

Atsumu laughs, rubbing the back of his head ‘sheepishly’. “Well, out of everyone, I’m probably the only one who actually has to squat on the court. The others mainly settle into less deep stances. There’s a surprising amount of movement that goes into being a setter.”

Hinata nods brightly, jumping in to add his own two cents. “And Bokuto-kun specializes in powerful spikes, so of course he has the strongest arms!” Despite being a few inches taller and beefing up a bit himself, he still managed to look so previous. “All volleyball players have to have strong quads, but Atsumu-san definitely works on his more than any setter I know.”

This earned a good laugh out of everyone on set.

“Well, we actually have a fun challenge that we tend to do with athletes whenever they come onto our show.”

Atsumu sighed theatrically, playing out the slight scripting that Takahashi had given him. “Ah, I’ve certainly seen the tweets since we announced we’d be coming here. Where’s the watermelon?” He let a bit of his cocky persona seep into his tone to better play up the confidence he had in his body image.

The truth of the matter is that Atsumu wasn’t entirely condiment that he would be able to do it. He’d never tried before – Osamu was going to kill him for wasting food as it was – videos online weren’t exactly detailed on technique. Most (if not all) of them were videos of women too.

Atsumu was a little bit concerned about how his dick might get in the way.

Just a little.

He’d looked up the other times this particular show had done the little watermelon gimmick, and 5 out of 7 of the athletes couldn’t do it and it was a funny joke and quickly moved from there. If Atsumu couldn’t do it then it wouldn’t be the end of the world.

(His thighs were quite a bit thicker than half of those athletes thought.)

He missed what the hosts said as he was thinking because the next thing he knows, he’s being handed a sizeable watermelon and he’s being nudged towards the center of the floor. As he sits on the ground awkwardly with his crotch facing the camera, his teammates cheering him on, filling him with some confidence.

He carefully places the watermelon between his thighs and crosses his ankles. “Alright,” he begins jokingly, “none of you are allowed to make fun of me for how weird this looks. I’ve never tried before.” He was partly bantering and partly serious. He doubted anyone picked up on the undertones. This comment predictably earned him jeers and mocking wolf whistles.

(It still blind-sided him how these cheers felt so different than with Inarizaki even though it was basically the same situation. How could someone ever think Bokuto or Hinata would mean any teasing? Like really mean it.)

He laughs good-naturedly before approaching his table. The watermelon felt so much bigger than it looked and Atsumu only had a vague idea on how to get it done.

Without bothering to stall any longer he placed his hands on the floor behind him to brace himself and then he pressed as hard as he could with his thighs, straightening out his folded legs a little to increase the compression on the fruit.

For a moment, he was genuinely worried that he wouldn’t be able to do it, and he’d look like an idiot. Then he felt the watermelon begin to give and a sharp crack echoed through the studio, getting picked up by the closest member’s mics. Once the crack began it was over for the watermelon and Atsumu’s thighs crashed through the watermelon and collided with a rather embarrassing wet slap.

Atsumu couldn’t stop himself from blushing at the exclamations of shock from both his team and the hosts.

“Woah! Tsum-Tsum, I can’t believe you actually did it!” Bokuto hollered excitedly.

Hinata cackled beside him, his eyes shining in the same way they did when one of their team pulled a particularly cool move on the court. “Atsumu-san! That was so cool!”

Despite having seen it done by a few other guests before, the hosts still looked very shocked at the pink mess that splattered across both his shorts and his thighs where the shorts had done an ineffective job at protecting his skin from the mush.

He kind of understood why Sakusa was so disgusted by everything now. He felt so gross and he anxiously swiveled his head to look for Takahashi.

“Well that was nowhere near as awful as I suspected!” he joked, grinning, albeit a little awkwardly. “But I could certainly go for a change of pants and a wet wipe.”

Before he’d even finished talking, out of nowhere, a pack of something (which turned out to be wet wipes when he picked them up) hit him in the head. Knowing only one person who carried around wet wipes and who would have the audacity to chuck them at the back of his head, he turned and called “thanks, Omi-kun” only a little sarcastically.

After that it was a simple matter of following the directions from the backstage crew to the washroom with the bag Takahashi handed him. He cast a half-hearted “don’t wait up for me” over his shoulder and then he was off.

Thankfully, the watermelon mush was relatively easy to get off his skin with just the wet wipes. He still went over his thighs with paper towel and water first to get the worst off, but the wet wipes thankfully stopped him from feeling sticky. Unfortunately, that was where his good fortune ended because the shorts that Atsumu pulled out of the bag were _very_ different than the ones he’d worn to the interview.

All the Jackals had worn street clothing, with Atsumu making sure that he wore shorts long enough to take the brunt of the watermelon stuff but not hinder him by making his grip slippery. This had resulted in tighter shorts that went all the way down to his knees but ultimately rode up to mid-thigh.

However, the new shorts were maybe half the size and skintight. Well, they probably weren’t meant to be skintight, but there was a reason Atsumu was able to crush that watermelon and it wasn’t because he had dainty legs.

The shorts settled just above mid-thigh and when he hiked his leg up, they rose to his upper thigh. They luckily didn’t rise height than that due to the tighter fit unlike the Jackals uniform shorts. They most likely wouldn’t rise high enough to see scars, but they did show a fair bit of thigh.

Atsumu… wasn’t exactly pleased, but this was probably just a little fan service stunt from Takahashi; a good way to rib Atsumu for crushing the watermelon with just his thighs. Whatever. It wasn’t like complaining would ever change anything. Atsumu was pretty sure that Takahashi hated him, especially since his tendency to be outspoken and his attitude caused him problems.

Atsumu had been avoiding him ever since the photoshoot incident. He was sure it was a headache for the agent.

After hurriedly changing, he rushed back out onto set, catching the tail end of what appeared to be the segment on Sakusa’s germ-aversion.

“–I’ve never been diagnosed with OCD. I do however struggle with moderate to severe mysophobia symptoms,” Sakusa was explaining just as Atsumu opened the door and re-entered the studio. “I have had issues with germs since I was a child. My older sister was sickly, and when my mother had me and I was a high-risk pregnancy, she took every precaution to make sure I wasn’t sickly. I struggle with physical contact and dealing with situations and environments that I deem unsanitary. If I get sick, I can’t be on the court.”

That was probably the most Atsumu’d ever heard Sakusa say in one go. And he’d been talking before Atsumu returned too.

One of the hosts hummed, nodding in understanding. “Ah, but for someone who deals with mysophobia, how did you end up involved in team sports? Surely it would be hard?”

“I’ve certainly gotten a better handle on the more illogical habits,” Sakusa agreed. “I have hypermobility, and my joints dislocated frequency in my early childhood. My doctor recommended that I get involved in a team sport to both build up muscle and to serve as exposure therapy concerning my aversion to germs. Volleyball involves the least amount of contact with the ball. My cousin was also interested, and I quickly grew to love the sport despite my person struggles.”

Meian smirked from beside Sakusa. “The hypermobility is what allows him to put that devastating spin on his spikes. I have to say, working with the ‘monsters’ sure is something.”

Seemingly as one, Bokuto and Hinata both turned to pout at their captain while everyone else (but Sakusa) let out some small chuckles.

“Ne, ne, how is it with the final members of the so-called ‘monster generation’ joining the team? How has it changed the dynamic?”

“Hmm, well, a soon as the first round of these hotshot kids graduated, we signed one of the top 5 aces, Bokuto Koutarou,” Meian began, folding his arms across his chest. At hearing his name, Bokuto perked up, Meian successfully pulling him out of his impending sulk. “He was very energetic, but his skill was undeniable. Then, only a year later, we managed to snag Miya Atsumu and the way we played changed again.”

Barnes nodded sagely. “Something that tends to be a little harder for someone who has never played competitive volleyball to see is just how big a difference a setter can make in a game. Our previous starting setter was a strong player, don’t get me wrong. But Atsumu-san just really was another level.”

Hinata’s eyes lit up. “Setters get to control the flow of the game. Back in high school, many times, our practice matches and even official matches, ended up being battles of setters. It’s the setter’s job to bring out the best in their team. It’s actually really interesting to see the effect a setter has on a team when they’re the captain.” He puts a hand on his chin, a thoughtful look crossing over his face. “Oikawa-san from Aoba Johsai in my first year and Atsumu-san with Inarizaki when I was in second year were definitely some of the scariest captains.”

Atsumu took that as his cue to re-enter the set.

“Aw! Sho-kun! You’ve really been paying attention to some of the speeches Tobio-kun has been giving you over the years, haven’t you!” he teased, strutting onto set like he was the shit and plopping back into his seat. He desperately tried to ignore the jiggle his thighs made as he walked and how so much more was visible when he sat down. He couldn’t just look like he was uncomfortable.

Atsumu was overconfident and that shamelessness was supposed to also apply to his body He was a pro athlete. It was muscle. He shouldn’t be self-conscious.

“Tsum-Tsum!” Bokuto cheered, reaching over to hug Atsumu.

“Speak of the devil,” Inunaki joked.

Meian quickly cut back in, retaking control of the situation. “Yes, yes, Miya-kun really changed the way that we played. The biggest change though was this year with Hinata-kun and Sakusa-san choosing to sign with us. They’re both incredibly strong spikers and add a lot to the team. I think that we’ll be surprising many people this season, even if those people aren’t the other ‘monsters’.”

“Can you tell us a little about how you’ve been working and improving?”

At this question, suddenly it seemed like every person in the room knew something he didn’t.

Bokuto was the one to speak next, smirking slyly at Atsumu. “Well, while some of us decided to work on our specialties, teamwork and even our receives, Tsum-Tsum over here chose to work on his flexibility.”

Atsumu frowned slightly. “Well as you say, Bok-kun, I chose to work on my specialty. Mine just so happens to be my flexible and unpredictable setting. Being more flexible allows me to help save some poor receives and turn the flow of the game.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Besides, I worked for these thighs and I have to say, they’re damn useful.”

Inunaki snorted. “Yeah, I bet they are!”

Now, in every video interview, inevitably, something happened, and they went off-script. This was especially common with only half-scripted interviews like this show. They preferred structure that allowed for some flexibility and a more natural feel to interactions. This is where Atsumu could tell that he’d somehow missed a scripted point.

“Ah, Miya-san. Speaking of what you’ve been working on, we’ve heard a bit about your new lessons. We’ve been told you’ve been taking dance classes?”

Atsumu felt a drop of sweat slide down his back. He laughed awkwardly to give himself a bit of time to respond. “Well, Coach wanted me to work on my core strength too, and dance is a great way to work muscles in a less conventional way.” There, deflect. He had no idea what was expected from him.

Was this way Coach Foster and Takahashi said they spoke with his teacher? Mizuki-sensei surely would have mentioned something if he had to be worried, right?

“What would you say to give us a demonstration?”

Atsumu’s smile remained fixed on his face, but he was getting increasingly nervous. He didn’t remember seeing this segment in the info packet PR had given him.

“Oh?”

There was a couple problems with dong an impromptu dance performance.

A; he wasn’t really dressed to dance.

Okay, that wasn’t technically true since casual clothing was pretty good for any dance and this pair of shorts allowed for a wide range of movement.

B; he didn’t have anything planned.

Atsumu was kind of shit at freestyling – he struggled to connect with the music like other dancers did, and while he could be creative on the court with getting the ball to where he wanted it to be, he wasn’t gifted with creativity anywhere else. He’d had no idea he would be asked to dance today and had not planned anything.

And C; arguably the most important thing; he didn’t do normal dance.

Although he had dabbled in hip hop with Osamu back in middle and high school, he hadn’t really liked it enough to get invested and keep up the training after. Besides, hip-hop wouldn’t exactly serve the right purpose either.

He pole danced.

That was nowhere near as uh… family friendly as hip-hop and required an almost entirely different skillset. It certainly required more muscle and strength. Besides, he would have to have a pole to do anything other than lyrical.

Surely, they were joking and this was just another way for Atsumu to embarrass himself and endear their adoring fans.

“Well, I have to admit, I’m rather unprepared.” He didn’t really know how else to respond and quite frankly, Atsumu was really scared of the mischievous looks on the studio people’s faces.

“Oh! That’s okay,” another host replied cheerfully. “Your coach said that when he talked with your teacher, you already have a routine down that will work. We’ve prepared the music!”

Atsumu blushed furiously, now realizing that he’d have to actually say it. “Well, aha, you see I’m not a hip-hop dancer or anything. I’d… need a pole.”

As soon as he said the word ‘pole’ the entire team burst into laughter. Even Sakusa was snickering! Atsumu didn’t know whether to be proud that he managed to make Sakusa laugh or mortified that Sakusa was laughing at him. Atsumu’s face was burning – he must look like a tomato. He cannot believe that this was happening. He _cannot_ believe that Takahashi and Coach Foster had done this.

Oh no, Suna was going to have so many memes to torment him with. As if the watermelon crushing wasn’t already enough fuel.

His words much have been some cue because a studio employee proceeded to wheel on set a platform with a pole solidly mounted on the center.

“You didn’t.” He was only half joking now.

The laughter from the Jackals started again.

“Miya-san? Please?” a host asked. “Your teacher only had nice things to say when we spoke with her over the phone.”

There really was no getting out of this, huh. He put on his game face and pointed accusingly at Takahashi where he stood behind the camera operators watching the playback. “Sly, sly man, Takahashi-san. I really should have known when the shorts you gave me were way shorter than normal.” He stood up from his seat, heading towards the pole that was now placed between the hosts and the team’s seats when you looked at the set head-on.

He pulled off his jacket as he went, pointedly ignoring the wolf whistles from the team. He launched the jacket in their direction, taking satisfaction in the ‘oof’ that sounded as he hit Hinata in what sounded like his face. Indulging in a little fan service, he flexed and made a show of the fact that he was wearing short athletic shorts and a loose muscle shirt.

Modesty and pole dancing didn’t really go all that well together He needed skin to pole contact. Atsumu wasn’t exactly a light guy. He was around 80kg of muscle.

“Alright, alright,” he said, touching the pole and testing how secure it was. It would _suck_ if the pole fell with him on it during the _live broadcast._ There was no editing that out. “What song am I working with?”

It was true that he’d worked on full routines with Mizuki-sensei. It was one thing to learn the moves, it was another to do a routine. His teacher had almost immediately picked up his hidden insecurities and had declared that she would fix that. He couldn’t say that she’d fully succeeded, but it definitely helped him get out of his slump.

More often than not, the days he had lessons were good days. The class was very non-judgmental and Atsumu had made friends with many of his classmates.

As far as he knew, none of them recognized him as a professional athlete. He was sure that that fact would change after this show.

The hosts just smiled at him and cued up the music. As the first piano strokes played over some loudspeaker, Atsumu easily settled into the first moves.

This was the first routine that Atsumu had really been able to nail down properly. Like the rest of his class, he’d started off with some more upbeat and sexy songs, but he hadn’t exactly been in the best place when he started taking lessons. He’d been able to fake it well enough at first, but Mizuki-sensei could see how he just wasn’t feeling the music. With dance, having that connection was important. She wasn’t satisfied with him merely putting on an act. She wanted him to be able to connect the same way that he did with volleyball.

And thus began the long and embarrassing foray into edgy English music because the typical music Atsumu liked to listen to for his cry-sessions wasn’t something he could dance to.

(He didn’t care what anyone said, Kokoronashi fucking _slapped_ and hit just the right buttons for him to get his weekly cry and even out his feelings.)

Of course, while punk called out to him, he found that Sia – embarrassingly – worked best. And so they choreographed something for Sia’s ‘Breathe Me’ easily one of the most overused songs. That shit was in everything even if it wasn’t sad. Most iconically, it was in that stupid scene from ‘Cyberbu//y’ played over the main character almost laughable attempt to kill herself.

(Was that cruel to think? It wasn’t like Atsumu hadn’t done worse…)

And now everyone was watching him dance to _Sia._

It wasn’t like he didn’t have other routines either, but this one was a good choice for this kind of ‘showcase’. It was the least sexual one he’d worked on – something more palatable for daytime television. Atsumu was kind of surprised this was okayed, especially because of all the stigma surrounding pole dancing, let alone a man doing it.

This routine was also a great demonstration of strength, flexibility, and control. He got to show off many cool moves in a short time.

Before he even knew it, he’d reached the end of the music segment they’d chosen to play – only about [1 minute and a half](https://youtu.be/gZdioX89rog). It was a good place to stop. He had a tiny bit of floor choreography and ended the performance on his knees, bent over backwards to look directly at the camera with his hand fisted in the fabric on his opposite shoulder.

There was a moment of silence before someone spoke.

“What the fuck, Miya.”

Meian sounded incredibly scandalized as he scolded whatever teammate decided to say that gem. “Sakusa! We’re on _live_ television! You should not be cursing.”

Atsumu straightened out of his bend, standing up and placing his hands theatrically on his hips. “Woo! I’m glad that the pole held me,” he announced, trying to distract from Sakusa’s deadpan remark. “I’m quite a bit heavier than your standard dancer. Never danced on a pole that was mounted only at one end before.”

His comment went vastly ignored because his teammates were all still trying to pick their jaws up. When Atsumu turned to look at them, he was honestly puzzled by their reactions. It wasn’t really that big a deal?

“No, no, Sakusa’s right,” Inunaki said. “What the actual _fuck_ , Miya?”

Atsumu flushed, suddenly remembering the splits he’d done, amongst other moves. “I told you I was taking dance lessons to improve strength, stamina and flexibility! Pole dancing is _not_ easy,” he defended weakly, grateful that the cameras were only able to catch the side of his face at most.

“Yes, we know that, but somehow we didn’t think you meant _that_ ,” Barnes said, his eyes a fair bit wider than normal.

Atsumu frowned. “You guys thought I’d suck, huh.” He didn’t know if he was meant to be offended or not.

Hinata spluttered. “In our defense, you haven’t been taking lessons all that long and you were _upside down,_ Atsumu-san! You did the _horizontal_ splits while only connected to the pole by your hands and a foot to counterbalance. And then you _hung with only your thighs. How?_ ”

Atsumu’s frown eased into something more similar to a pout. “I take my training seriously. I need to be the best in order to beat Tobio-kun out for starting setter on the national team.”

“Well, I can tell you right now that Kageyama can _not_ do _that_.”

“Hinata-kun!”

“Sorry, Meian-san!”

The hosts quickly cut in before the team could continue to swear and make sexual allusions on live broadcast. “That was very impressive, Miya-san!”

Another host bopped their head in agreement. “Very impressive! And how long have you been taking lessons? Hinata-san said it wasn’t that long?”

“Only about 6 months, but I have the advantage of being a pro athlete for years beforehand, so that allowed me to catch up quickly.”

The hosts continued to chatter at him, sending indistinct praise to drown out whatever the mics picked up from the team. “And what made you choose pole dancing? Surely you could improve flexibility in another way?”

Atsumu made his way back to his seat again as he thought about how to answer. “Well… when Osamu – my twin brother – and I were younger, our parents threw us into all kinds of lessons until we found out volleyball was for us. We took some hip-hop classes in high school to work on coordination and even some other miscellaneous classes for dexterity. ‘Samu was always the better dancer, but I didn’t hate it. I just liked volleyball more.”

He crossed his arms and looked up thoughtfully. “I know from experience that you can get a lot out of dance. Pole is pretty much the most rigorous and one that requires more training and conditioning. Well, I imagine ballet requires an intense amount of training and conditioning, but that’s the sector of dance that results in the most permanent injury and being a beginner there wouldn’t help me all that much,” he explained. “I wouldn’t want to damage my ankles with pointe or something.”

The host nodded. “Very well thought out, Miya-san. You said you have a twin brother? Can you tell us more about that?”

They’d completely gone off-script now, but no one was stopping the hosts, so Atsumu just did his best to answer and hoped that Takahashi wouldn’t get too mad at him. “Yeah! We both went to Inarizaki for high school and were known as the Miya Twins. Made quite a splash with our so-called ‘twin telepathy’.”

“But your brother is no longer playing?”

Atsumu’s heart sank. “Ah, no. He gave up volleyball after high school. He wanted to open a restaurant of some sort, and now he owns Onigiri Miya.” His ever-present smile fell from his face at the mention of Osamu. Even years down the line, it still hurt that Osamu had gone on a different path. Still, he had never asked Atsumu to give up his dreams, so how could Atsumu justify the same?

“Ah. That must have been hard.”

Atsumu tried to plaster his smile back on his face, but it inevitably fell a little short. “He has his dreams. I’m grateful that he supports mine as well.”

Luckily, the hosts took that as the dismissal it was. He didn’t want to talk about Osamu, and it showed. Hopefully Osamu wasn’t watching and wouldn’t see this. He didn’t want Osamu to get on his case _again_ about Atsumu’s reaction to him quitting volleyball.

“It’s a pity we never got to see you two on the professional court.”

“Yeah. A pity.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: Also! the pole shit was inspired by "Atsumu Breaks Sakusa, Twitter, and the Whole Volleyball League" by MOMENTOMORIOMI (ponkanshoyo) so go read that as well!
> 
> Thanks again to everyone who has stuck with this fic! I'm pleased with where it's going and I really appreciate all the love that you've been sharing with me.
> 
> Also! I've gotten a twitter for writing (@uaigneach_klein) where I share some neato random thoughts and maybe even spoilers for future chapters of various things I'm working on. I've fallen into Haikyuu brain rot, and because my friend promised to watch Haikyuu with me if I watched Diamond is Unbreakable, I've fallen even further into brain rot and will be eventually writing a crossover. It's... cursed content, I'll tell you that.
> 
> Have you ever considered what Kageyama, Ushijima, and Tendou's stands would be? Because now I can't stop thinking about it and all I wanna do is write some Atsumu-centric angst, dammit.


	5. crowned by an overture bold and beyond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lil filler because I didn't really think I could fit this in nicely with other chapters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is a short chapter but I promise there will be better angst later. I've planned out the next few chapters and things'll get moving soon.

Predictably, the internet lost their minds after the show finished airing.

Within hours, Atsumu’s Twitter timeline was completely flooded with posts about his thighs and surprise talents. Both Miya Atsumu and MSBY Black Jackals were trending, and Takahashi looked immensely satisfied.

Some of the photos were flattering, catching him in an elegant spin on the pole. Others were just stills of him with a smashed watermelon between his splayed thighs that were absolutely covered in juices and some watermelon mush. The look on his face screamed embarrassment. He was almost as pink as the watermelon. These photos were usually accompanied by various keyboard smashed and all capital thirst tweets.

Someone had even gone out of their way to find and do the math to calculate how much force he had exerted with his thighs. This was proudly proclaimed from someone’s personal account! There’d even been a surprising crop up of fan accounts – Twitter handles like ‘crushmeAtsumu’, ‘Atsumusthighs’ and ‘poledancertsumu’ quickly gaining traction as they dumped screenshots and video clips from that broadcast. Some were even pulling photos from his modelling and the promotional shots. Some had gone the extra mile and dug up his high school Volleyball Monthly pages.

Atsumu didn’t know whether or not to feel flattered, embarrassed, or creeped out.

Also as expected, his team had continued to lose their minds about his ‘secret pole dancing skills’ and had demanded he give them more demonstrations and even show them a few moves. Atsumu was just glad that no one had made fun of him too badly. Sakusa had even kept his mouth shut, although he kept shooting these piercing looks at him that worried Atsumu.

He’d probably burst into flames if Sakusa said anything to him about pole dancing anyways.

They’d all seen far too much of his crotch.

Suna had called him that evening to cackle at him for hours. He liked to send him memes of himself periodically whenever it seemed like Atsumu ‘forgot’.

Atsumu was a little torn on what to think about that talk show episode. On the one hand, nothing overtly bad had happened. His teammates hadn’t been disgusted by him, and it hadn’t even resulted in a series of down days. It just… became a big deal. He’d definitely prefer this kind of media attention over a scandal, but the only reason it hadn’t turned into a scandal was because people preferred to thirst over him over ripping him a new one for pole dancing of all things. The watermelon crushing probably helped with that – Takahashi at least seemed to know what he was doing.

It just… Atsumu felt a little uncomfortable. He kind of just wanted it to all be over and to not have to deal with it anymore. He almost wished that he could go back to when no one knew about his dance lessons – or at least didn’t give a shit about it.

Still, he had to live with it now. But that would hopefully be all drowned out by the season starting. They would be opening the season with a game against the Adlers. This would be the season that the Black Jackals would steal the champions crown from the Adlers. Atsumu would look Tobio and Ushiwaka right in the eyes as he used Hinata and Sakusa against them and toppled their throne. They would start this by wining the first game of the season and gain the momentum. They would carve out a strong name for themselves.

They had _4_ from the well-known “monster generation” that volleyball fans around the country had been keeping their eyes on with anticipation.

(It was almost funny how big of an impact their generation had. Even the one’s not actively playing pro volleyball had their fingers in some pies in the scene.

Atsumu had met Kuroo and he honestly dreaded seeing him and Bokuto together at the same time.)

It would certainly be an exciting game.

Atsumu still remembered his own debut game, and it was at much lower stakes than Sakusa and Hinata’s. Atsumu’d still been hella nervous and Bokuto’d had to sit up with him when he had been having a minor breakdown at 2 A.M.

With that in mind, Atsumu found himself leaving his unit at around midnight at the same time as Bokuto just across the hall.

“Ah, you too?” Atsumu asks casually.

Bokuto hums. “Ah, I figure that Hinata at least will be bouncing with nerves and excitement. He’s a little like me.”

“You take Hinata,” Atsumu nodded. “I’ll check on Omi-Omi.” With that, Atsumu quickly ducked back into his unit to grab a hoodie and some tea bags. Sakusa seemed like the type of person to like tea, and Atsumu had been experimenting lately with making his own custom blends. He’d managed to find a balance that really helped ease his nerves and calm him down. It helped him on his more anxious days. Were it any other night, Atsumu would have gladly grabbed some lavender and chamomile but he didn’t like taking sleep aids before a game and figured drugging Sakusa wouldn’t be taken too kindly.

And so, Atsumu knocked on Sakusa’s door, stuffing his hands in his pocket. He wasn’t really expecting too much from Sakusa, but to his surprise, Sakusa actually did answer the door only a moment or two later.

“Miya,” he greeted, a blank look on his face.

Atsumu opened his mouth to say – well he didn’t even know what – something when his brain actually caught up to what his eyes saw. Sakusa might have answered the door, but he clearly didn’t expect it to be for a conversation because he was wearing only a pair of pajama pants and nothing else. His curls were messily piled on top of his head like he’d been running his hands through them for a while. Atsumu’s brain temporarily blue screened.

“Uh,” luckily Atsumu’s brain managed to come back online quickly and before Sakusa grew annoyed with him. “Can I come it?”

Well that wasn’t quite how he wanted to say it, but it worked as well as anything. Sakusa would either open the door further or slam it in his face.

Surprisingly, Sakusa held open the door and gestured pointedly. Atsumu couldn’t quite hide the way that he perked up at Sakusa’s acceptance as he scurries in past Sakusa. “Say, Omi-Omi, why are you awake?” he asks curiously, taking in the differences between his unit and Sakusa’s.

As expected, Sakusa’s unit was immaculate. It was tastefully decorated in dark greys and clean lines. He had some healthy house plants scattered on different tables. Atsumu wasn’t an unclean person, but he had to admit that he’d let some things slip a little lately. He had small piles of clutter along his own furniture. His place was also brighter in colour scheme even if somehow the atmosphere felt colder.

“I just… haven’t been able to sleep yet,” Sakusa admitted with a surprising amount fo honesty.

Atsumu raised his eyebrows but blustered on. “Ah! Pre-debut jitters getting’ to ya? Don’t worry! We all went through it,” he said cheerfully, fully ignoring Sakusa’s pinched expression. “Say, Omi-kun, do ya got a kettle? I’ve been having some trouble sleeping myself, and the best thing for it is some nice tea. It’s always better to drink tea with someone else than alone!”

He didn’t brother to wait for Sakusa to answer, simply walking into the kitchen area. He was already tempting fate by barging into Sakusa’s space, and at this point it wasn’t like Atsumu _wasn’t_ annoying Sakusa.

“There’s one in the shelf above the stove.” Sakusa had followed Atsumu into the kitchen area, seemingly entirely unfazed by Atsumu – well other than a slight tense to his forehead in between his eyebrows. He seemed intensely focused.

“This is a custom blend,” Atsumu babbled nervously as he filled the kettle with water and set it on the stove to boil. “’Samu suggested it back in high school because I’d get jumpy before games and keep him awake. We slept in the same room all the way until I moved out.” That wasn’t entirely true, but it didn’t really matter. Atsumu had learned a long time ago that people tended to be more accepting if Atsumu mentioned Osamu. Osamu had always been the most trustworthy twin.

He turned to smile at Sakusa, squishing his eyes closed to simultaneously appear more genuine and to avoid making eye contact. With Sakusa. “Bokuto was the one who stayed with me the night before my debut. I actually get him to drink tea instead of those surgery abominations he prefers to drink.”

The kettle whistled softly and he poured water into two mugs that Sakusa handed him. “I used to think that I was above being nervous – that because I was a ‘monster’ and had been playing since middle school, that I couldn’t be nervous. I was merely excited. That wasn’t exactly true.”

He pulled the bag of tea bags out of the pocket on the front of his hoodie and dropping one into each mug swiftly. “You don’t have to talk about it. Believe me, I get not wanting to acknowledge that weakness. If you want, I can keep blabbering or we can just sit in silence.” If Sakusa asked him to get out of his apartment, then Atsumu would leave without complaint, but strangely, he didn’t find himself inclined to be alone.

(He wouldn’t say that he was having a down moment, but he wasn’t exactly feeling good either. He didn’t want to be alone and it probably wouldn’t be a good idea for him to be alone either.)

“I never took you as the kind of guy who liked tea.”

Atsumu’s head snapped up, Sakusa’s quiet remark drawing him from his reverie. “Oh,” he mumbled awkwardly. “Well, coffee never really worked for me and I hate the taste. Really, ‘Samu’s more the connoisseur of foods and drinks, so I kind of just followed what he did. It’s how I learned how to cook so well!” It was a pretty sound strategy too – Osamu and Atsumu shared the same tastes in almost everything and food was definitely one of those things.”

“That… makes sense.”

Atsumu hummed and sipped his tea. Avoiding making eye contact with the other man. He felt… weirdly sick? It was almost like his organs had suddenly become heavier. At the same time, the restricting tightness around his lungs had eased in Sakusa’s presence.

“You’ll do wonderful tomorrow, Omi-kun.” He smiled, setting down his mug. “I know you know that, but it really is true. You don’t have to worry too much because everyone else on the team is ready to support you. I’ll give ya the perfect tosses.”

“Hm.”

“It’s important to get sleep, Omi. Even if it feels like you can’t possibly fall asleep, I promise it’ll come.”

“I never had this problem before. It’s odd.”

Atsumu bopped his head. “Sometimes all ya need is a small meaningless conversation to distract you slightly.” He winked at Sakusa, finally directing his gaze at Sakusa’s face. Sakusa was staring at him with an intense but unreadable gaze. “You should be grateful that you got me. Before I knocked, Bokuto was on his way.”

Sakusa’s face scrunched slightly, his not wrinkling adorably. “I can’t imagine that he’s all that effective at helping people fall asleep.”

“Well he _did_ help me.”

“It’s because you’re special, Miya.”

“Rude, Omi-kun!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who is sticking with this story and commenting! I really appreciate it! If you ever have any ideas, predictions or even things you want to see, don't be afraid to drop that in the comments because I'm open to suggestions and I can definitely fit things in in between the plot points I have. 
> 
> Should I title my chapters? Since I used the song "Achilles, Come Down" by Gang of Youths as the title, I was gonna use other lyrics that fit the chapter vibe.


	6. I'm talking to you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some introspection for y'all

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back with a longer chapter!
> 
> I really appreciate all the support that this fic has received so far. We need more Atsumu-centric fics in the world ngl. As much as I identify with Oikawa's 'ordinary-vs.-extraordinary' struggle, it's so so easy to project onto Atsumu and he is a fountain of angst due to the whole twin thing and his own views on people's opinions of him.

Atsumu had always been someone with a lot of love to give.

Ever since he was a kid, he was great at loving unconditionally. He was the younger twin, and he loved his brother more than anything in life. Everything paled in comparison to how bright and amazing his brother was. Osamu was his everything. He didn’t even care all that much that his parents blamed Atsumu whenever things went wrong or that they clearly treated whoever they thought was Atsumu differently. Osamu loved him and that was more than enough.

Besides, people treated him well enough before they realized that he was Atsumu. Their opinions don’t matter; only Osamu’s mattered and Osamu loved him.

He followed Osamu everywhere and tried his best to mimic how he acted but inevitably his personality shone through. Osamu had always been the calmer brother and Atsumu just didn’t have the patience to fake it.

For a while, Atsumu’s love and devotion was dedicated entirely to Osamu, but then the twins hit middle school and they met Aran.

Aran did _not_ like Atsumu, but honestly, Osamu was just as much of a shithead as Atsumu.

(He was a good brother and he stuck with Atsumu much closer than Atsumu probably deserved. He even antagonized him so that Atsumu wouldn’t spend the entire break alone.)

The twins _did_ however like Aran and definitely did everything in their power to vie for his attention. Aran was not impressed.

But now Atsumu had another focus for his unique brand of affection. He didn’t love Aran like he loved Osamu, but Aran intrigued him and wasn’t mean or dismissive to Atsumu. He also didn’t blatantly favour Osamu and as much as Atsumu liked to pretend that he didn’t care about what other people thought of him, he _did_ notice, and it _did_ have an impact on him.

Atsumu favoured over Aran, although Aran definitely didn’t think that it was out of any positive emotional response.

When the twins met Suna, that love expanded again. Suna was quiet but had a quick wit that was more than able to keep up with the twins’ nonsense. He was pretty and had narrow hooded eyes that were always observing with a cunning gleam.

The way Atsumu loved Suna was much more similar to how he loved Osamu than how he loved Aran. And!!! Suna seemed to at least return that interest and affection, albeit not to the same degree.

Well, he wasn’t mean in a meaningful way and while he did openly prefer Osamu, he didn’t hesitate to talk to Atsumu. This must be what having a friend was like! It was very promising for Atsumu.

The issue with Suna was that Osamu had been enamoured with the other boy. This meant that Osamu wanted to spend time with Suna without Atsumu.

That in itself wasn’t a horribly abnormal thing.

Since everyone liked Osamu better, he actually had friends and got invited to go places. Atsumu usually stuck to his twin’s side like glue, but he knew that Osamu did appreciate going places without Atsumu. He’d always been more independent than Atsumu who was horribly clingy.

Atsumu saw the way Suna and Osamu looked at each other even then, and he didn’t force his way into their hangout sessions.

He was rewarded by being invited to half of them.

So he learned how to love from a distance because even though he desperately wanted those soft looks for himself, he knew Suna would never look at him how he looked at Osamu.

And Atsumu loved Osamu more than anything in this life and would never stand in the way of Osamu’s happiness.

Osamu still loved Atsumu. It’s just… as they got older, he was less free with the words even in private.

That was okay. Atsumu had more than enough love in his heart to make up for it.

When he met someone new, his love simply grew, not divided.

It grew again when the twins joined the Inarizaki volleyball club and Atsumu met Kita and the others.

Now Kita– Kita was so kind and patient. He was so _good_ and he cared for Atsumu more than Suna did. His care was soft instead of the blunt and sharp that Atsumu was used to. He didn’t coddle Atsumu, nor suffer his childishness, but he was quick with praise and kind actions. Atsumu couldn’t help but look at him like he was the sun.

Atsumu was used to loving unconditionally and without any expectation for love in return. Still, it would be nice to get some love.

He knew that Osamu loved him, but as they got older, he was quick to tease and snap at Atsumu and he became more and more independent, leaving Atsumu with many lonely moments.

He knew Suna didn’t hate him, but he spat and poked without care at all of Atsumu’s ‘hidden’ insecurities. He never minced his words and was often cold. Still, he didn’t overtly shun Atsumu – especially if they were in private or in the gym. He’d tease relentlessly, but really, no worse than what Osamu did.

Atsumu’s love went generally unseen.

Aran didn’t hate him! But… he did treat him like the child he’d been when they first met. Osamu got a similar treatment so Atsumu really couldn’t complain.

It was Kita who showed his care. There was no shame or secrecy in Kita’s easy affection. There was also no uniqueness or indication that that care was meant to Atsumu. Kita was kind and nice to everyone – it was part of why Atsumu found it so easy to love. Atsumu could take what he could get and he would be so grateful.

He would just be a little sad too.

He was used to the performative love that the Inarizaki team sometimes graced him with.

It could be enough.

Atsumu could make it enough.

The Jackals were both similar and different.

The Jackals were nice enough to him – close to how Aran treated him and Meian was a good Captain. Bokuto (and subsequently, Akaashi) was a breath of fresh air that Atsumu hadn’t really known he’d needed.

Bokuto and Akaashi just rolled with whatever he did or said, both of the former Fukurodani players happy to give him attention whenever. Bokuto was just so happy and down for both chaos and happy outings. Akaashi was calm and patient but not in the condescending way that Kita and condescending way that Kita and the others sometimes were. Akaashi also had this mischievous streak in him that complemented Bokuto and Atsumu well.

For the first time in his life, Atsumu didn’t feel judged, and as such, he’d been more honest with them than he’d been with anyone since Atsumu was very young and still told Osamu _everything_ instead of just ‘everything’.

He could act as dumb as he wanted Akaashi would just take it in stride because Bokuto has done worse (and Bokuto has no room to talk because he’s done worse). He could be nerdy or express an opinion contradictory to his image and he’d either get an engaging conversation or some expression of admiration for his skill or expertise.

He could be less than perfect, and no one would think him weak.

Atsumu didn’t know how to handle it.

He burst into tear frequently when thinking about it.

He wasn’t yet close enough with Hinata or Sakusa to really know for sure, but Hinata at least was just as much of a sunshine as Bokuto and was as such, freer with affection. He was always pulling Atsumu into much-needed hugs and showering everyone with praise and a look of awe on his face.

Still, Atsumu was good enough with his teammates, so when they won the game against the Adlers, he joined in on the celebratory dinner with zero insecurity.

They’d had a great game and while Atsumu wasn’t wholly satisfied with his performance (he never would be because there would always be thing he could have done better and he will spend hours pouring over what he had fucked up later) he was content enough to put on a good front and actually enjoy the rambunctious dinner. He even got to sit next to Sakusa. And Sakusa didn’t say shit about Atsumu’s germs.

The night was going swell, right up until they were winding down and walking back to the apartment building the Jackals all lived in. That’s when Atsumu got a message from Suna and his mood immediately soured.

> **Suna:**
> 
> Saw your game today. You really had the audacity to recreate that freak quick?
> 
> And with one of the original users against the other?

On the surface level, it was a typical message – nothing really all that wrong with it. Suna was just teasing in the way that he usually did.

Atsumu’s upper lip quivered.

> **Atsumu:**
> 
> I had to show Tobio who the better setter is.

He shot back the text and tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach and his rapidly plummeting mood. He didn’t even know why it was bothering him so much. It wasn’t even that venomous message.

Suna was quick to reply.

> **Suna:**
> 
> Gods, you really are a piece of crap huh?
> 
> I don’t know how your new teammates put up with you.

Okay, so that hurt a lot more.

Atsumu took a moment and let his next inhale rattle through his chest. He shot back a half-hearted message.

> **Atsumu:**
> 
> ☆*:.｡.o(≧▽≦)o.｡.:*☆ aw SunaRin!
> 
> You know you miss me! I am an absolute delight.
> 
> **Suna:**
> 
> Don’t call me SunaRin, bitch
> 
> **Atsumu:**
> 
> (๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ

“That doesn’t really seem like a nice conversation,” Sakusa says from right behind Atsumu’s left ear and Atsumu lets out a loud yelp, jumping violently.

“Holy shit, Omi-kun! Warn a man!” His heart was pounding in his chest.

Sakusa stared at him quizzically while the others in the team (who had been walking a bit ahead throughout all of this) turned around to stare at the spectacle that was Atsumu in rare form.

“I’ve been walking right beside you this entire time?”

“Oh,” Atsumu winces, locking his phone as if that would stop Sakusa from continuing his life of questioning. It was ineffective.

“You look a little troubled.”

Sakusa’s voice may be softer but the others had drawn closer and now he was surrounded. “Tsum-Tsum! Is everything okay? You look upset,” Bokuto yelled boisterously.

Atsumu winced again, quickly plastering a playful pout on his face and getting ready to put on a little snow. “Nah! Nothing’s wrong. Suna’s just teasing me ‘s’all.”

Bokuto didn’t look wholly convinced, but he did let it go. “Alright. If you’re sure.”

Atsumu laughed brightly. “Maa, Suna’s just like that, the little shit.”

Sakusa didn’t look convinced either, but the rest of the team was. “Come on, let’s get back before it gets even later. We have practice tomorrow!” He winked at Sakusa. “Get ready to analyze that game! Coach loves to have us pour over our moves even when we win!”

* * *

For the next week, Atsumu hadn’t been sleeping properly.

What sleep he was able to get was fraught with nightmares and frantic tossing and turning. He’d had a couple low grade headaches, but Bokuto hadn’t had to intervene yet. Still, Atsumu wasn’t doing so well and it was beginning to show.

Atsumu couldn’t afford that.

So he did what he always does when he’s panicked and doesn’t know what’s wrong.

He calls Osamu.

This time at least, it was only 11:30 P.M. Osamu picks up on the second ring.

_“’Tsumu?”_

“’Samu? Do you think that I’m unlovable?”

He hadn’t even really known what he was going to say until he had already said it. Was that his current concern? Unclear. Was that _a_ concern? Hell yeah.

_“’Tsumu? What brought his up?”_

It didn’t escape Atsumu’s notice that Osamu didn’t answer the question.

His breath caught in his chest. “I love you, ‘Samu. You know that, right?”

_“Atsumu, what’s happening – what brought this on?”_

Atsumu was fully spiraling and completely incapable of stopping. “You _have_ to say it back. You have to _say it back,_ ‘Samu!”

Atsumu knew he sounded hysterical, but he’d gotten caught in his head and his voice was beginning to sound like it was coming from under water. He just… needed to go. He just needed to _stop._

_“Of course I love you, ‘Tsumu. Now I need you to take deep breaks for me. You’re acting hysterical and I can barely understand you. Breathe with me.”_

“’Samu,” he pleased.

_“Atsumu, follow my breaths.”_

Osamu made a point of taking even, slow breaths and Atsumu did his best to follow and match him. It may sound stupid to do, but this wasn’t the first time and Osamu wouldn’t tell him to do something if it wasn’t going to be helpful. Osamu was so much more put-together than Atsumu.

_“Okay, now that you’re calmer, can you tell me what happened? This is the second time that you’ve called me acting weird.”_

Atsumu didn’t really want to answer.

“Do you… think I’m unlovable, ‘Samu?”

Osamu still hadn’t answered that question. Was Atsumu the problem? All along? He’d thought he was fine – clearly people loved him… maybe not to the degree that he wanted or needed. But love was love, right? But it was just so hard for people to love him. Osamu was stuck with him since Atsumu was born. But he’d pretty much chased away everyone else. Those who stuck around always had some situation reason, like being friends with Osamu or being on his volleyball team and teamwork was important.

He was spiraling – spontaneously – and he needed Osamu.

_“I don’t think you’re unlovable. Did someone say something to you.”_

Something in Atsumu’s chest loosened.

“No. It just… I’ve been thinking. I can’t get it out of my head. Everyone hates me, ‘Samu. You were right.”

_“I don’t think everyone hates you. That’s absurd.”_

“I’m lonely, ‘Samu.” It wasn’t an adequate explanation, but it was true all the same. Atsumu had felt lonely for a huge chunk had felt lonely for a huge chunk of his life despite being born with a twin.

He was so cold all the time. He was desperate for affection and Osamu wasn’t there. He was off living his own life and Atsumu was lying in his bed alone in the middle of the night.

_“Have you tried seeing if one of your teammates is awake? I think having someone in person will help you more than just this phone call. You’re close with Bokuto-san, aren’t you? He is just down the hall.”_

Atsumu shook his head, pressing his lips together. “I don’t wanna bother any of them. It’s late.”

_“But you’ll call me?”_

Atsumu flinched violently. “I’m sorry.”

_“No, no, no, ‘Tsumu, you_ know _you can call me whenever you need me. You know I’ll always pick up.”_

“Okay.”

_“No, Atsumu, I need you to tell me you understand.”_

“I know I can call _you_ , ‘Samu. Y’u’re my other half. You have to ta answer. But… you have your own life, ‘Samu. You and Rin are working and making a life for yourselves and I just feel lost and adrift.”

_“So is this because you don’t have a romantic partner?”_

Atsumu bit his lip harshly. “Maybe,” he admitted. “Sort of? I’m just… feeling like I’m missing something. Like I’m not enough and to much simultaneously. No one can stand me. Am I just gonna be alone for the rest of my life?”

_“There’ll be someone for you. Maybe it’ll take some time and some growing, but you’ll find someone. No matter what, you’re not alone. I know that right now you’re a little hung up on Sakusa-san–”_

“I’m not hung up on Omi-kun!” Atsumu snapped.

But that wasn’t quite true. He had gotten a lot more attacked to Sakusa, but he was sure that it was still firmly in the crush phase. It wasn’t _feelings_ yet. It just triggered his fear of having no one love him and that he’ll end up alone. Sakusa was just an easy trigger. Besides, he was a safe crush to pine for. There was no way that Sakusa would ever return his affections. Sakusa might tolerate him as a teammate and as his setter, but even having Sakusa see him as a friend is more like a pipe dream.

To be quite frank, Atsumu was surprised that Sakusa hadn’t murdered him yet. Or like, sprayed him in the face with some kind of disinfectant just because he could.

_“That sounds very convincing.”_

“It’s just a small crush,” Atsumu defended weakly. “I know he’ll never like me back. I’m not stupid.” Atsumu reached blindly for the fox plushy Bokuto got him and cradled it tightly to his chest. “He’s not the issue though. That issue is me.”

_“You’re not a problem, ‘Tsumu. You’re a pain in the ass, but that’s just who you are. There’ll be someone who will appreciate you for who you are, just like I love Rintarou even though he’s a piece of shit.”_

“Will there be though? Maybe I’m too much.”

There was a long pause.

_“How long have you been thinking things like this, ‘Tsumu?”_

“That doesn’t matter.” He squeezed the plush tighter.

_“I think it does. I think you know it does.”_

“Well it doesn’t!” Atsumu snapped. “I shouldn’t have called. I shouldn’t have bothered you. Just… forget about it. Forget all about this stupid phone call.”

_“’Tsumu, I think that this is something important that we need to talk about. I don’t think you should sweep this under the rug.”_

“It doesn’t matter what you think. This is none of your business.”

_“’Tsumu, this is_ not _healthy. You’re clearly distraught and these thoughts have obviously not happened overnight.”_

“It’s just a moment of weakness. You know how people get when it’s late at night. After midnight thoughts and all that.”

_“It’s not midnight yet.”_

Atsumu scowled. “Semantics.”

Osamu sighed heavily.

_“I know that you’re trying to avoid talking about this, and maybe it’s just ‘cause you don’t want to talk with me about it. That’s okay. Just promise me that you’ll talk to_ someone. _”_

Atsumu’s grip tightened on his phone. “Yeah, I’ll talk to someone.” He was lying. It was embarrassing enough that he’d just broken down at Osamu and Osamu could never truly judge him. He’d had _some_ conversations with Bokuto and Akaashi, but that was more about his physical health issues. He’d briefly mentioned his ‘down’ days, but it wasn’t to this level. He’d never broken down like this.

He wouldn’t be able to stand seeing the pitying looks on their faces. They just wouldn’t understand.

_“’Tsumu, I’m serious. You need to talk to someone about these feelings even if it’s not me. You can’t let these feeling fester. You’ll just feel worse. I know you overthink everything.”_

“Goodnight, ‘Samu.” Atsumu was done having this conversation. He just wanted to pop on some sad music and cry himself to sleep. He’d read somewhere that crying was cathartic and healthy because it evened out the brain chemistry. It’s also supposed to help with clearing skin, or something.

He was tired.

Things would be better in the morning. He wouldn’t feel as insecure in the morning. This would all just seem trivial.

All he had to do was cry his feelings out and he’d be okay.

_“Goodnight, ‘Tsumu. I love you.”_

“I love you too.”

* * *

That quasi-break down was unfortunately not the end of his bizarre limbo and only lead to another series of bad days. Atsumu was quick to anger and upset. The Jackals thankfully gave him space and he was able to even out without alienating his team.

Hinata had briefly been freaked out but had later confessed to him that Kageyama also had days like this and that the best thing to do was just to give him space.

That just made Atsumu feel guiltier about being an absolute gremlin.

He was so sure that he’d gotten better from the way he was in high school. He’d thought he really had changed, but this last week seemed to really prove that he hadn’t grown anywhere near as he would have liked.

He felt like garbage.

He made up for it by training harder and suppressing how annoying he was. Sakusa’s pinched expression whenever Atsumu cut himself off told him that it wasn’t working as well as he thought it was.

It didn’t help that Sakusa seemed determined to keep having tea with Atsumu. He seemed to have a sixth sense for when Atsumu was vulnerable enough to accept Sakusa’s company instead of rejecting it in an attempt to not be more of a nuisance. They rarely talked on those nights. Merely sitting in silence while sipping whatever tea Sakusa had brought to try.

It was nice and probably one of the reasons that he was able to repair his mask as quickly as he had.

He certainly had been an unstable monster for longer back in high school. Sometimes he really wondered how Kita had been able to deal with him. Meian seemed to have a hard enough time and Atsumu wasn’t even actively being a nuisance. In fact, he was the one responsible for corralling Bokuto half the time.

Still, there was an audible sigh of relief when he bounced into practice chattering at Sakusa instead of stomping alone.

(It was sort of gratifying to feel the energy that had returned to the team after that. Atsumu’s better mood was infectious and put an extra ‘oomf’ into everyone’s movement. It was enough of an extra pep that Coach Foster even commented on it.

It was flattering that the team cared when he was out of sorts and were genuinely happy when he was no longer out of sorts. They brightened and save a quick question from Bokuto, no one really pushed past checking that he was good now.)

(It was also a little concerning that they had been _that_ affected by Atsumu’s slump. It wasn’t like his playing had been any worse than normal. He was as good as any other average division a setter, but he didn’t have that extra something that he as a member of the “monster generation” should. He was simply good – not great.)

Somehow, this all led to Meian proposing that they all go to Onigiri Miya for a team dinner/bonding event.

Bokuto, Hinata and surprisingly Sakusa (who as far as Atsumu knew, didn’t particularly care for onigiri) were quick to jump on the idea and before Atsumu knew it, they were all loudly walking into his brother’s shop thoroughly surprising his twin.

The shop was mostly empty, but Osamu was entertaining a few customers, who, on closer inspection appeared to be Aran, Suna and Kita of all people.

It felt like it’d been forever since Atsumu last saw Kita.

Both him and Aran looked good – happy. They were dressed tastefully and were laughing at something that Suna was saying. For a moment, Atsumu’s breath caught in his throat.

Ah fuck. He’d had that crush on Kita, that he never dealt with.

Fuck indeed.

“Miya.”

Atsumu whipped his head around to look at Sakusa, his eyes wide.

“Are you okay?”

Atsumu smiled brightly at Sakusa, a warm feeling blooming in his chest. “I’m fine, Omi-kun! Just surprised to see my old captain ‘s’all.”

Sakusa’s lips thinned but he didn’t comment further. They followed the others up to the counter, Bokuto already enthusiastically greeting Osamu and chatting about the new items on Osamu’s menu.

“Oi!” Atsumu called cheerfully, waving over at the other former Inarizaki players. “Kita-san! Aran-kun! It’s been forever since I last saw either of you! How’ve you been?”

It really had been a while since he last saw any of the Inarizaki alumni. It’d even been pretty long since he last saw Osamu, even if they spoke fairly frequently. They’d just all been so busy and caught up in their own lives.

Atsumu was no different. Communication went both ways and Atsumu hadn’t exactly made an effort to catch up with them either. The only reason he kept in such ‘good’ contact with Suna was because Suna was dating his twin and the Jackals frequently had practice matches with EJP Raijin.

Kita and Aran had always been a little distant, standing just a little too far out of reach – even if that distance was only created by a single year age gap. To Atsumu, it felt unreachable in a way that didn’t seem to apply to the ‘older’ generation of volleyball players in the pro-circuit. Somehow, they felt closer in age than Atsumu’s high school senpais.

Wasn’t that bizarre?

Kita turned to smile pleasantly at Atsumu and Sakusa as they joined them at the counter and bar seating area. “Ah, Atsumu-kun? I’ve been good, how have you been? It has been a while.”

Atsumu beamed at Kita, feeling that familiar happiness from being close to Kita. He was just so genuinely good that sometimes even being close to him was enough to put him at ease.

“Same old, same old! We finally beat the Adlers thought! I got to shove in Tobio-kun’s face the fact that I now get to toss to his boyfriend. I told him I would se tot him!” Atsumu answered enthusiastically.

Aran smiled softly, already the normal put-upon look beginning to close over his features. “Ah, I saw that game. Good job, Sakusa-san. I know how hard it can be sometimes to deal with a setter like Atsumu. It’s rewarding though.”

Sakusa shrugged. “His tosses are easy to hit. Atsumu is an excellent setter.”

Bokuto turned to look at Aran, his usually bright smile now a little tense. “Atsumu is one of the best setters I’ve ever had.”

Hinata bounced in agreement, somehow looking years younger “Uh huh! He’s set for 3 of the top 5 high school setters of our generation now! We could probably talk Ushijima-san into practicing with us too!”

Atsumu felt warm and pleasantly touched. He knew his new teammates valued him, but it was always nice to hear it – especially when it seemed almost to be in a defensive sense. He was _their_ setter now. It was nice.

“Aw! Guys! They’re just sad that they no longer play on my team,” he joked. “We’re gonna be this year’s champions for sure.”

Osamu rolled his eyes alongside Suna. “Ha! As if,” Suna taunted, smirking. “Ya know what we say, ‘Tsumu; ‘we don’t need memories’ – so don’t be a cocky shit.”

Atsumu pouted, but as always, Kita was quick to swoop in and move the conversation away from mocking-Atsumu-hours. “Yes, congratulations, Sakusa-san, Hinata-san. It was a very impressive debut match.”

Atsumu nearly bounced on the balls of his feet. “Kita-san! You watched?”

Kita blinked up at him before smiling again with that angelic smile of his. “I watch every game I can from all of you. I’m proud of all of you.”

Atsumu could cry.

Damn, he’d forgotten what it was like to be around the Inarizaki team.

It hadn’t all been bad. He’d just… forgotten how good the good times _had_ been.

Bokuto slung an arm around Atsumu’s shoulders. He laughed loudly. “It’s your loss! We’re lucky to have snatched him up right out of high school.”

Meian rolled his eyes. “You say that like you had anything to do with Atsumu-san’s sighing with the Jackals, Bokuto-kun. You were only a year out of high school yourself.” Bokuto flushed brightly.

“Well let’s order then, shall we?” Bokuto said quickly, drawing a laugh from the gathered group of volleyball players.

Osamu rolled his eyes again. “What can I get for ya?” He shot a look at Atsumu. “And you – you come back here, put on an apron and some gloves. Y’u’re gonna help since you came in here so late and with so many loud folks.”

Atsumu made a show of whining, but he did duck out from under Bokuto’s arm and do as Osamu said. With Suna helping too, the making of the onigiri went quickly. Atsumu missed preparing food with his brother. He was in his element.

“So, Kita-san, was it?” Meian began conversationally as Osamu and Atsumu began dishing out onigiri orders. “How exactly do you know Atsumu-san? I know he used to play with Ojiro-san here…”

Atsumu frowned a little.

He’d been sure that he’d talked about Kita with the Jackals. He’d told them some stories about Inarizaki, right?

Well… despite being a chatterbox, he didn’t really delve too much into storytelling unless it was about Osamu or Suna. Hell, he’d only mentioned Aran offhandedly once when commenting on someone’s spiking form.

Had… had he really not talked about Kita? That just felt wrong since Kita had been a super influential presence in his high school years. Then again, he hadn’t really wanted to talk about high school all that much.

‘We don’t need memories’ and all that.

“Kita-san was the captain for our high school team in my second year,” Atsumu cut in, gesturing to Osamu, Suna and Aran. “I’m sure you remember him from when Hinata made you watch the tape of our match at Nationals.”

Meian’s eyes lit up with recognition. “Ah, so you’re the captain Atsumu-san always talks about.”

Atsumu immediately flushed as Osamu and Suna burst into raucous laughter, Osamu going so far as to double over.

“Only good things, I hope,” Kita said gently.

“He waxes poetic about your abilities as a captain and how much of a good job you did taking care of your team,” Barnes assures him. “It’s quite sweet really.”

What it was was humiliating. Atsumu must be the colour of tomatoes by now.

Luckily, Kita seemed to take it in stride. “Well I hope you’re doing a good job of taking care of my kohai in my stead. I don’t get to hear from my most troublesome kohai nearly enough to be confident in how he’s doing.”

Before Meian or any of the others could answer, Suna snorted theatrically. “So, Kita-san, you’re telling me that you haven’t seen the MSBY Black Jackals Interview with HQ Variety?”

If the floor could open up and swallow him that would be great.

Of course Suna would bring up that damn variety show. And in front of _Kita._

“Suna!” Atsumu hissed, but the damage was already done.

Kita let out his own small chuckle. “Ah, I actually did catch that interview. I didn’t know you could dance, Atsumu-kun.”

Osamu barked out a laugh. “We did do hip-hop lessons while you were at Inarizaki. Atsumu swore me to secrecy because he was embarrassed.”

“’Samu!” Atsumu whined. “Why did you have to bring that up?”

“No, no,” Inunaki cut in. “We really have been sleeping on that little tidbit you let slip because we were understandably distracted by the pole dancing.”

Hinata looked at him with wide eyes. “Woah! You can dance other styles, Atsumu-san?”

Atsumu scowled at him. “As if you don’t tear up the dance floor anytime he got to a bar or club, Mr. I-lived-in-Brazil-for-years.”

Hinata just shrugged. “All I’m saying is we barely knew you had interests outside of volleyball.” Atsumu squawked but couldn’t exactly deny that either.

“He likes tea,” Sakusa pipes up out of the blue, drawing all eyes to where he’d been quietly picking away at his food. “He also likes to sing while cooking when he’s focused.”

Everyone stared at him with wide eyes. Atsumu had had no idea he’d done that, let alone in front of Sakusa. Osamu just barked out another laugh at Atsumu’s expense. “You still do that?”

Will Atsumu’s skin ever revert to its natural skin tone or will he remain a human shaped tomato forever? The world may never find out.

“I didn’t know,” he grumbled.

He was thoroughly drowned out by Suna cackling like a hyena in a way that was awfully reminiscent of Bokuto’s friend Kuroo.

“Aren’t you just a fountain of fun facts,” Aran said wryly. “I can honestly say I didn’t take you for someone who liked tea _or_ someone who danced.”

“I’m a complex individual, Aran-kun.”

Aran’s laugh boomed through the shop. “That you are, Atsumu-kun,” he agreed.

As conversation moved on, Atsumu chanced a glance over at Sakusa. He was no longer watching Atsumu, and instead staring intently at his onigiri.

Since when did Sakusa pay so much attention to him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More establishing of both Atsumu's unreliable-narrator-bias thing and some more looks at Sakusa possibly returning Atsumu's feelings (◕‿◕) because no matter what he says, buddy boy has feelings. 
> 
> As big of a fan I am of Sakusa dealing with mysophobia and OCD (if it's well-written and done correctly, then it can actually be really cool to explore) I'm doing a more chill Sakusa. He still has some issues, and I'm giving him something similar to my own touch-aversion. 
> 
> Also, I have not forgotten about the slight against Atsumu via springing the pole dancing thing on him. It will come back. 
> 
> BUT I DID MISS THE MIYA TWINS' BIRTHDAY AND I FUCKED THAT UP. I'll bring it up at some point because fun fact, since I made Osamu a day older than Atsumu (which angst to be created with Osamu being o l d e r and no one else knowing), they have different birthdates on their birth certificates. We haven't seen the last of the former Inarizaki folks.


	7. it's not much but there's proof

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plot keeps on chugging

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> join me on twitter @uaigneach_klein for some behind the scenes bits and pieces of this fic (and the other fics I'll be writing)
> 
> enjoy the chapter! haha

In between training for matches and actually having matches, a lot of Atsumu’s social life had slid. Considering his social life was essentially the volleyball circuit and his brother, that was saying something. All in all, it cumulated in Atsumu not being able to spend his birthday and Osamu’s birthday with Osamu. They’d had some hardcore training in prep for the Adlers match with 2 new starting members. He’d still been able to call Osamu, but it really hadn’t been the same.

Previously, he’d been able to slip away from the Jackals without people questioning him too much – he’d merely said he would be visiting Osamu. That wasn’t out of the ordinary considering Atsumu used to spend a fair amount of his off time helping Onigiri Miya out when they were short staffed.

He just hadn’t considered that no one on the team knew his birthday and that it was something important to them.

In all fairness, he didn’t know most of the team’s birthdays by heart. He _did_ know Bokuto and Sakusa’s though since, like Atsumu, it had been a part of their Volleyball Monthly interviews. Well that and Bokuto loved birthday celebrations.

Which was probably how Atsumu ended up being interrogated by his team when he mentioned he would be staying at his brother’s place the coming weekend they had off games.

“Oh? Is Osamu-san okay? He looked fine last we saw him,” Meian asked curiously.

Atsumu laughed lightly. “Oh, he’s fine. We just haven’t been able to see each other for more than a passing meal lately. I even missed ‘Samu’s birthday!” It was only mentioned offhandedly, but that simple comment drew everyone’s attention.

“We missed your birthday?” Bokuto nearly shrieked, straightening up abruptly from where he was doing his cool down stretches with Hinata.

“Miya-san’s birthday?” Sakusa commented, wandering over to the group of older players that were gathered around Atsumu and Meian.

“Eh? Yeah, it was on October 6th,” Atsumu frowned. “We had some mandatory training on the 5th through 7th and I just never got the chance to go visit. ‘Samu celebrated his on the 5th with SunaRin.”

Apparently that created more questions than it answered because Inunaki was quick to pick up on Atsumu’s wording. “Back up a second. You said Osamu-san’s birthday – aren’t you guys twins?”

Atsumu frowned. Was he the only one who read up on his teammates’ interviews? Like Bokuto and Sakusa, he’d had numerous interviews in Volleyball Monthly and for his basic profile they’d included Atsumu’s birthday. It _was_ a minute detail and, in all honesty,, they’d probably fucked up the dates by making the assumption that since they were twins, Osamu and Atsumu had the same birth date. Atsumu had never really looked all that closely at the spreads. Had he ever explicitly told someone?

“Well yeah, but I was born almost a full 24 hours after ‘Samu,” Atsumu admitted.

The team’s eyes bugged out of their heads, Bokuto and Hinata’s comically so. “You’re the _younger_ twin?!” Bokuto yelped, scandalized.

Sakusa, one he got over the moment of surprise shrugged his shoulders. “Wouldn’t you be more surprised if he was the _older_ twin? He acts infinitely more like a child than Miya-san does.”

Atsumu pouted theatrically at Sakusa. “It’s not _my_ fault I’ve always been the baby of the family.”

Sakusa raised an eyebrow. “That explains so much.”

“Hey!”

Barnes at least, looked to have recovered from his own shock, but it had now transferred into horror. “24 hours in _additional_ labour? Your poor mother!”

Atsumu winced. Yeah, that had been a rather unfortunate byproduct of the age gap. “Yeah, our birth certificates have two different dates. ‘Samu never lets me forget that unlike most twins, he’s an entire day older than me.”

“Did everyone know this?” Hinata demanded. “Because this feels like a rather shocking thing to know. I feel like my entire world view has changed.”

Atsumu scowled. “It’s only _one_ day,” he groused. “And I’m pretty sure no one else actually knows? Neither ‘Samu nor I tend to mention it and we always have a quick, private celebration. This is the first year we’ve both been too busy.”

Bokuto shook his head, a little dazed. “Somehow I always forget that Osamu-kun being your twin brother – now being your _older_ twin brother, _wow_ – means you basically did everything together until after high school.”

“Yeah, we basically lived out of each other’s pockets for those 17 years. It was a big adjustment to living on my own.” Atsumu had to give it to Bokuto. He was still reeling about no longer being around Osamu all the time. There were days he desperately missed the constant that was his twin. He was Atsumu’s other half.

Sakusa shook his head slightly. “I can’t even _begin_ to imagine how _loud_ that was.”

Atsumu barked out a laugh. “Oh yeah, we used to fight all the time. Suna has an immeasurable amount of videos on his phone. The media would have a field day!”

“If your shenanigans were anything like the variety show, then I can’t say I’m surprised,” Thomas throws out jokingly.

Atsumu winces. “Ah. Yeah. They really took that video and ran with it.”

“In all fairness, ya _did_ crush a watermelon with your thighs,” Inunaki pointed out. “Are you really that surprised?”

Atsumu’s shoulders slumped and he let out a sigh. “No,” he admitted.

If it wasn’t then, then it would have just been something else. The media would always find something, and Takahashi seems fine with using that to the team’s advantage. Atsumu didn’t really get it, but Takahashi had been hired for a reason.

“Well, we’ll just have to have a late celebratory dinner,” Bokuto declared. Then he levelled a look at everyone else. “Everyone better cough up their birthdays now so that this doesn’t happen again or I _will_ be Facebook stalking you.”

At the last comment, everyone burst into laughter. Hinata may be sunshine but he was also a little shit. It was Bokuto that was really the heart of the team and it showed.

“Very well, Bok-kun!” Atsumu said. “I promise I’ll tell ya the important stuff next time.”

Previously, the tone in the gym had been good natured and warm. While the room held the same feeling as only moments before, a shiver rand down Atsumu’s spine. Bokuto made eye contact with him, and as soon as the words fell from Atsumu’s tongue, all the good-naturedness had melted from Bokuto’s face. For a man that was always smiling, that was most certainly unsettling.

As much as Atsumu liked to joke with Akaashi about how owl-like Bokuto could be, it had never been more apparent than in this moment.

His eyes had never looked more gold and they sat wide in his blank face. He seemed to be scrutinizing Atsumu – what he was looking for, Atsumu couldn’t tell. This couldn’t possibly still be about Atsumu just forgetting to mention his birthday.

Atsumu bristled unconsciously. So what if he only ever celebrated it with Osamu? His family and Osamu’s friends still sang happy birthday to him at Osamu’s birthday dinners. It was just easier – like if their birthday had been on some other holiday with gift giving; two celebrations was just overkill. It wasn’t like Atsumu went forgotten or anything.

And why was Bokuto so serious?

How as no one else seeing this?

“You promise?”

Bokuto’s head had cocked itself slightly to the left quizzically, and now nervous sweat was sliding down Atsumu’s back and he had goosebumps.

“Uh… yeah?”

In an instant, Bokuto was back to normal and beaming happily. “We just wanna make sure you’re honest with us, Tsum-Tsum. This time was just a birthday, but last time we only found out about your migraines when you collapsed in front of us.”

Atsumu didn’t think that that was entirely fair, but now Bokuto had opened yet another can of worms. Atsumu wasn’t even sure that it was a coincidence. Bokuto had looked too weird only moments before. He didn’t appreciate the callout though.

“Hey! I don’t even have them all that often!” he defends. Unfortunately, that didn’t seem to help matters at all because Sakusa and Hinata (the only members of MSBY _not_ there for at least one of his severe migraines) were staring at him accusingly.

“You get migraines, Atsumu-san?” Hinata demanded.

“Ones severe enough to cause you to collapse?” Sakusa said, frowning deeply.

Atsumu rolled his eyes. “Come on, they’re not that big of a deal!”

This time it was Meian who betrayed him and exposed his weaknesses to the team. “I’m going to have to disagree with you there, Atsumu-san. We had no idea you had even headaches, and the next thing we know, you’re on the ground _crying_. Before that we’d never seen you cry at all. Ever.”

Inunaki looked oddly solemn, which definitely freaked out Hinata more. “It was your first year with us and we didn’t really know you too well. You were just as skilled enough to bump our original one down to second string fresh out of high school. We’d played with Bokuto-kun for a year but weren’t horribly close. He greeted you like a friend though, and the two of you were bright and loud.”

“You were kind of a mystery. Then the next thing we know, you’re collapsing on the court, crying in pain and no one but Bokuto-kun had any clue what was going on,” Meian agreed. “The only reason Bokuto-kun had any ideas was because Akaashi-san apparently also gets migraines like you. There was no information about it on your medical files.”

Atsumu crossed his arms over his chest, thoroughly displeased with how him informing the team he’d be out for the weekend turned into an interrogation where they aired out his issues to the two spikers that he wanted to respect him. “In all fairness, I’d never gotten checked out by a doctor so there was no reason for it to _be_ on my records.”

Meian raised an eyebrow. “You never mentioned _debilitating headaches_ at your yearly mandatory physicals?”

“They’re not debilitating!’ Atsumu flushed. “I just forgot. They’re months in between. I didn’t think it was that big of a deal.”

“Miya,” Sakusa cut in. “You collapsed and were reportedly crying. That’s pretty debilitating.”

“I haven’t had one since like January!”

Bokuto scowled. “Okay, maybe you haven’t collapsed in front of us, but I’m pretty sure you’re still having headaches. Sometimes you’re off.”

Atsumu’s flush was no less indignant and more angry. “Why does that matter? It’s not like mah sets are any worse!” His accent was beginning to get thicker the more flustered he was.

“Atsumu-san, we care about your health. We would like to know these things so that we can help you,” Hinata frowned, looking almost distressed.

“I don’t need help,” Atsumu snapped. “It’s not that bad. I just pop an Advil and keep going. There’s not much else anyone can do.” He was thoroughly done with this entire conversation. He didn’t _want_ to talk about his headaches. He just wanted to go to Osamu’s place and cook and shoot the shit. He was _so_ tired.

“Miya–”

“You know what? Nope!” Atsumu cut Sakusa off. “This conversation? Over. I’m leaving now.” And then because Atsumu just couldn’t resist making a bigger fool out of himself and acting childish, he grabbed his bag and stormed out of the gym without letting anyone else get a word in edgewise.

* * *

Despite the rough departure, Atsumu had a fantastic weekend with Osamu. He helped out at Onigiri Miya (some fan shots providing positive publicity for both the shop and the Jackals) and just had a comfortable time crashing on Osamu’s couch. Osamu barely gave him any shit for his weird attitude and didn’t ask any prodding questions.

He really should have known that that was a sign that something bad was coming.

Only a week after visiting Osamu, Atsumu had slipped and wasn’t as careful as he usually was when changing. He hadn’t considered that his teammates would be watching him.

“Woo! Looks like you had a fun night,” Inunaki whistled.

Atsumu froze as all eyes turned to his back. In a flash, Atsumu had tugged on his shirt and turned his back to his locker. He must have scratched his back raw in the last few days, as there was apparently lines of scabs down his shoulder blades.

He didn’t even remember doing it. Shit.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Inunaki barked out a laugh. “Please, I wasn’t born yesterday! I know what scratches on the back mean. You’re a masochist then?” and then he giggled like a child.

Atsumu laughed awkwardly, but internally he was panicking.

He’d meticulously washed his hands like he always did before practice – not wanting to bother Sakusa anymore than he absolutely had to. Sakusa was _just_ starting to warm up to him and Sakusa hating _would absolutely_ make him cry and he was having a good week dammit. All the same, he somehow felt like blood was caked under his nails. His shoulder itched.

Bokuto was looking at him oddly. “Oh? Scratch marks?”

“Yeah,” Inunaki crowed. “I didn’t get a good look since Atsumu-kun moved so quickly, but there were definitely scratch marks. ‘Looked like someone really raked down his shoulders.”

Barnes snorted. “When did you have the time to get laid?”

Thomas joined in on the heckling. “Maybe he didn’t spend the night at his brother’s and was visiting someone else too!”

Barnes shook his head. “Nah, the scratches would have faded before now if so.”

“Not if they _really_ dug in.”

“Damn, Miya. Fuckin’ _get it._ ”

“Miya fucks!”

Now, normally Atsumu would be joining around with the other Jackals or even blushing furiously at how blatantly crass they were being about his sex life, but he was _this_ close to a panic attack and it was taking everything in him to not draw attention to the fact that he was panicking. Rough sex was a great cover and there was absolutely no reason for him to be panicking over a hook up or even a secret relationship.

Bokuto’s searching gaze told him he wasn’t doing a great job which was just really counterproductive for his acting performance.

His eyes flickered around the locker room, taking in everyone’s reactions. Barnes, Thomas, Inunaki and Hinata were all wiggling their eyebrows at each other and laughing at increasingly ridiculous innuendos. Meian was rolling his eyes and scolding them – saying they were their seniors and yet still acting like high schoolers. Bokuto was looking at him with that piercing, suspicious look of his and Atsumu just knew that he wouldn’t let this go. The second string players were on the other end of the locker room and generally didn’t care for the antics the starting lineup got up to.

Sakusa was what really caught Atsumu’s attention. He was facing his own locker and holding his shirt with a tight grip. He seemed to be frozen, a small pout on his face.

“Omi-kun?”

Sakusa jolted sharply, staring at Atsumu with wide eyes. “What, Miya?”

Atsumu shook his head. “Nothin’, Omi. You just seemed a little lost in thought.”

Sakusa’s face went oddly blank. “Oh.”

Atsumu shrugged. “Come on, Omi. I wanna practice some new quicks.”

* * *

That unfortunately wasn’t the end of karma punishing Atsumu for _something_ – probably for being a shit person – because only a few days later he opened Twitter to see his timeline flooded with pictures of him and an overwhelming amount of mentions with demands for answers.

That nearly sent him into a panic all by itself.

The video of him pole dancing and crushing a watermelon with his thighs had been out for a few weeks at this point and while the hype hadn’t completely died out yet, it had stopped _flooding_ his timeline.

That was not the case on this day.

Nope. On this day, Atsumu woke up to dozens of screenshots of what appeared to be _very_ zoomed in pictures of his thighs, shoulders, upper arms and sides. What Atsumu had been dreading since that initial photoshoot had happened.

> **atsumu brainrot** @beexiumi
> 
> is it just me or is there something sus about Atsumu’s thighs?
> 
> _[A photo showing a close up shot from the watermelon crushing portion of the variety show. It is before the watermelon was crushed so the bulge of his thighs were clearly visible. The shorts had ridden up to show more skin than Atsumu had thought. It showed the paler lines of his cut scars but only the very edge of the patch that decorated his thighs and hips.]_
> 
> 6:13 AM
> 
> 32 Retweets 7 Quote Tweets 1344 Likes
> 
> ^
> 
> **Jackals :)** @keykiyoshi7443
> 
> those look like scars?
> 
> ^
> 
> **michimichi <3 **@sakusas1mp
> 
> maybe they’re stretch marks? he DOES have big thighs
> 
> ^
> 
> **Jackals :)** @keykiyoshi7443
> 
> are there any other angles?
> 
> **atsumu brainrot** @beexiumi
> 
> okay so I went back and watched the interview again (as you do) and I found some more concerning things and???? Is Atsumu okay?
> 
> _[Another picture (this time from a different angle) shows the pale lines on Atsumu’s thighs a bit clearer]_
> 
> 7:24 AM
> 
> 134 Retweets 82 Quote Tweets 1005 Likes
> 
> ^
> 
> **atsumu brainrot** @beexiumi
> 
> like not only was the interview a little weird in general, but look at Atsumu’s face when he came back out in those shorter shorts after cleaning watermelon off himself
> 
> _[A zoomed in photo of Atsumu’s face. He is smiling, but there is a visible pinch to his facial features.]_
> 
> _[A photo of him standing awkwardly at the edge of the set, his shoulders slightly hunched and his hands fisted at the end of his jacket that is only an inch or so above the end of his shorts.]_
> 
> ^
> 
> **atsumu brainrot** @beexiumi
> 
> you can see the lines (marks?) better here too!
> 
> _[A zoomed in photo of where the shorts meet his exposed thigh showing more white lines and how they extend to the outside of his thighs.]_
> 
> ^
> 
> **jenny loves cheese** @wonwon97
> 
> oh man, I never noticed how uncomfortable he looks
> 
> ^
> 
> **Jackals :)** @keykiyoshi7443
> 
> ikr!! how did we not notice?!
> 
> **I want my own omi** @gayno394
> 
> _@beexiumi_ did you see the pole dancing segment? It gets worse!
> 
> _[A photo of Atsumu throwing off his jacket to reveal he’s wearing a muscle tank, the sides cut off, completely exposing the entire side of his torso. There is nothing that stands out immediately, but there is a faint tinge of red near his armpit.]_
> 
> 8:01 AM
> 
> 74 Retweets 15 Quote Tweets 293 Likes
> 
> ^
> 
> **I want my own omi** @gayno394
> 
> I don’t typically like speculating about celebrities’ lives and splashing their private lives everywhere but look at this
> 
> _[A zoomed in photo of Atsumu’s torso from the side, revealing vicious red welts-like lines curving from his back to the top of his shoulder.]_
> 
> _[A photo of Atsumu’s upper arm and faint blurry pale patches on his skin standing in greater contrast due to his darker tan on his upper half.]_
> 
> ^
> 
> **I want my own omi** @gayno394
> 
> I don’t know how no one has talked about it before – we’ve had these videos for weeks now
> 
> ^
> 
> **I want my own omi** @gayno394
> 
> like I’m not going to knock kinky sex but those look like /welts/ and scars. they're not in conventional places either
> 
> ^
> 
> **atsumus thighs are godlike** @thechubbyathlete
> 
> we’ve never seen marks on him before. do you think he might be being abused?
> 
> ^
> 
> **Bokuto is a himbo** @ch4ng3mym1nd
> 
> Okay, but hear me out,,,, the placement and the shape of the marks makes me thing that they might be self-harm scars
> 
> _[A picture of atusmu’s thighs when he was doing the splits on the pole.]_
> 
> ^
> 
> **Bokuto is a himbo** @ch4ng3mym1nd
> 
> Like I have the same scars
> 
> ^
> 
> **jenny loves cheese** @wonwon97
> 
> maybe we’re blowing it out of proportion!! They COULD just be stretch marks. Lots of people are shy about their stretchmarks.

The following tweets were all along the same vein. They were more screenshots, all minutely different but predominantly focused on his thighs. They were gifs and slowed down videos focused on his thighs and how the light shifted to show more and how the light shifted to show more or less of his scars. Less were about the scratches and fainter scars on his shoulders and upper arms. His shirt didn’t shift as much as he’d feared, but it still made some Twitter compilation threads.

Speculation went from stretch marks, to allegations of old or current abuse, to self-harm scars, to poor lighting making odd shadows, to kinky sex and an unfortunate wardrobe choice.

The video wasn’t at a good enough quality for anyone to get definitive answers, but there was certainly evidence for speculation.

When Atsumu obsessively refreshed his feed, more posts of substance – instead of just panciked screeching and keyboard smashes – began to appear. Fans had gathered pictures from games and social media posts where Atsumu’s mask had faltered slightly.

Pictures of his own plastic smile sat next to photos where he clearly looked dejected and even apathetic. There were paparazzi shots of him when he was beginning to have a headache or right after he’d dropped his smile after everyone stopped looking at him. Some tried to get glimpses of his upper thighs or shoulders, but his uniform covered the problem areas and all promotional shots already had the scars meticulously photoshopped out and were now serving as evidence towards it simply being a trick of lighting, even though that didn’t excuse the marks on his shoulders. They were red and slightly scabbed over!

Some particularly dedicated fans even went so far as to dig up photos and videos from his days at Inarizaki to see what evidence they could dig up to support any conclusion.

It was massive and it’d blown up seemingly before his eyes.

People were demanding answers from his teammates and from the ex-Inarizaki players. No one had said anything yet, but it was only a matter of time.

His phone’s notifications hadn’t stopped going crazy since 8 AM and Atsumu _didn’t know what to do._ He ignored all the messages, determined to pretend as if he had slept in and his phone had died. He didn’t even bother checking who the texts were from. He didn’t want to _know_ who they were from.

He let his phone slip from his hand as he frantically dove for his bathroom and the cabinets under the sink.

His fingers shook violently as they found purchase on his razor.

He couldn’t deal with what was happening.

He needed to _think._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thoughts? expectations for the following events? shit really has hit the fan here
> 
> (pls don't judge my weird choices for twitter formatting... and the way I chose to drop the birthday issue - it just didn't fit well anywhere else lmao)


	8. your act is a ruse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Atsumu does some damage control.

By the time Atsumu’s head had cleared of most of his panic, his hips were a bloody mess and Atsumu realized just how much _more_ fucked he was because of his panic response.

He’d ignored any and all messages – Takahashi was going to _kill_ him. And now that he’s torn through the skin of his thighs rather thoroughly, covering and hiding his injuries and scars was going to be so much harder. He had actively bleeding wounds and blood all over his razor and bathroom floor. Atsumu doubted that people would barge into his apartment, but it wasn’t out of the range of possibility.

He needed to do damage control _now._

He wiped his hands on his thighs below where the cuts were, wiping off as much wet blood as he could to minimize the amount that he spread on the other objects he touched. He’d watched too many forensics shows to be so callous. Blood was difficult to clean completely and it already looked like he’d skinned someone. He’d stocked up on medical supplies back when Sakusa and Hinata had first joined the Jackals since they’d triggered an episode. Hydrogen peroxide not only cleaned wounds, but it also dissolved blood – Kuroo had given him _that_ fun fact during a crime show movie night. He needed to clean the blood off of himself and bandage his hips.

It was an area of high mobility, especially for an athlete. Normally, he wouldn’t mind the twinge he got every time he moved, but he hadn’t torn into his skin this badly ever and even standing up hurt way more than he expected. Even with his clothes covering them and the bandages stopping him from getting blood on his clothes, he would be hard pressed to act like he was completely fine. His hips were on fire. Every movement was going to continuously pull open his scabs too, and they’d take longer to heal. He was thankful that he’d had the presence of mind to at least cut shallowly. He wouldn’t have to get checked out by a medic.

That would only confirm the scandal and Atsumu would really be in _deep_ shit.

It stung, but the blood washed away and he was able to lay down a think layer of antibiotic cream and bandage them in a timely manner. He then moved to carefully cleaning his razor and putting it away in a drawer with the rest of his shaving supplies. He had another razor he tended to use for shaving, but it wouldn’t be out of place to have more than one. ‘What if one broke?’

He kept black hand towels under the sink as well, and those were quickly doused in diluted hydrogen peroxide and then used to scrub the tiles and other locations the blood had gotten on. Once they were rung out and thoroughly rinsed, they went in his hamper along with his clothes.

He needed to get dressed and actually plan how he was going to deal with this.

There was pretty much no way that anyone on the team _hadn’t_ seen the photos and speculation. They’d all been tagged at some point by people seeking answers and Atsumu knew for a fact that at lease Bokuto and Hinata liked to scroll through Twitter while they ate breakfast and did their morning routine. If the other hand’ checked social media, then they definitely got messages from those who had. He would be walking into a situation with his audience already having expectations and suspicious of their own. That was less than ideal but at least their source material was only speculation without concrete proof.

Inunaki had already joked about him having wild hookups. Atsumu was a surprisingly private person for someone chronically incapable of shutting up. That being said, he couldn’t say that he had been keeping a partner secret this entire time. His team would feel lied to and upset and be more likely to look back at his actions with scrutiny. The pole dancing reveal had already been a lot and showed that the team was more than willing to dig into his personal business and latch on like dogs to a bone. Giving them just enough info was key.

Outright lying made him feel a little guilty but he really didn’t have another option. He wasn’t about to tell them that he was probably depressed and had some serious self-harm scars.

So hookups that got a little too handsy and rough. He hadn’t expected it to get that racy and the marks lingered longer than he’d thought. That would take care of the shoulders. All he had to do was blush heavily and overshare and the team would most likely let things go. The thigh shots would be a bigger concern. There were significantly more photos of those marks and of much better quality. That being said, they didn’t show nearly as much as he’d feared. It was just the very edges of his scar patches and those were the lightest. They were the oldest too, and thus the most faded. If there was a silver lining in this situation, it was that.

He was going to have to go with saying that it was stretch marks. A quick google search proved that some stretch marks could be rather stark against skin with even a little melanin. Atsumu had a healthy tan too, so the scars did stick out a bit.

It wasn’t like Atsumu didn’t have stretch marks either. He’d just made sure to moisturize and they were rather faint. He was fortunate in that area. Still, his thighs were certainly thick enough for it to be very plausible and believable.

As long as no one demanded to see them for proof – something that was incredibly rude and uncalled for – then he should be fine. Even if they did, he should be able to dismiss it as something he was insecure about and that it bothered him. The team had been pretty good at respecting his boundaries if he explicitly stated them, and Atsumu didn’t really have a reason to believe that this would be different.

Okay. He could do this.

This wasn’t going to be the end of the world. He was good at acting and there was no reason for them to not believe the explanation he gave. He hadn’t _lied_ about his migraines; he just hadn’t told them ahead of time. They knew he didn’t like to admit weakness and being self-conscious about his body’s marks could be seen as a weakness.

Yes, there _was_ still the issue if the facial expression and posture pictures. But everyone had bad out of context pictures. Atsumu had just been tired or grumpy. It didn’t have to mean anything. It wasn’t a big deal.

He could dismiss this.

It didn’t have to end in disaster.

Of course with all his panicking and thinking, he’d only managed to throw on a pair of loose athletic shorts and a t-shirt before there was a loud pounding at his door.

“’Tsumu! You better open this fucking door. You have some answerin’ ta do.”

Oh shit.

Atsumu had completely forgotten about Osamu.

How the _fuck_ had he forgotten about his twin brother?!

He’d never been good at lying to Osamu especially when he was emotionally compromised. He’d relied heavily on Osamu being distracted or not caring all that much to make his lies believable. That, or he’d been annoying enough that Osamu either didn’t _want_ to know the truth or was unwilling to hear what Atsumu had to say, like with the ‘confession’ notes.

That wasn’t the case here. Now Osamu wanted the truth and had actually bothered to be angry about it.

Osamu had always been the twin slower to anger but quicker to violence. Atsumu was pretty much all bark and no bite when it pertained to anything other than Osamu’s honour or his own setting abilities. He was dramatic though and quick to squawk and throw a fit. He’d always been loud spoken, and that didn’t help either.

Osamu on the other hand had always been more even tempered. He wasn’t taunted as easily and preferred to ignore slights and invitations for a fight. He liked to pretend to be way more mature than Atsumu since he was the older twin. It was especially effective when held under scrutiny against Atsumu flying off the handle.

However, Atsumu’s temper burned brightly and quickly. He’d have his outburst and then it would be done and nothing would really come from it.

An unfortunate byproduct of Osamu’s anger being slower was that it simmered for a while before he exploded. Every time Osamu had actually been angry at Atsumu, Atsumu had been quick to make himself scarce. Osamu got violent when he was angry. He’d once actually decked a guy who made homophobic comments at Suna.

Another fact of his anger was that it typically only presented at its peak when he was angry on someone else’s behalf.

(The one time Osamu had been present for the orchestra club shit-talking Atsumu, Osamu had flipped his shit.)

But now Osamu was _angry_ at Atsumu and Atsumu was _not_ prepared to deal with it and he really wasn’t in a position to run away until Osamu calmed down.

(And odds were that Osamu wouldn’t be calming down anytime soon either.)

(Joy.)

Maybe if he just stayed quiet then Osamu would think he already went to practice and he wasn’t in the apartment.

“ _Miya Atsumu_. I know you are in there and I have a spare key to your apartment. You better open this fucking door.”

Shit.

“I’m comin’, ‘Samu! Don’t get yer panties in a twist,” Atsumu called back, thanking his lucky stars that his voice sounded normal.

It was a good thing that he hadn’t cried in a while. It always made his voice tremble and crack. Panic just made him a little louder than normal.

Atsumu let out a theatric yawn and stumbled towards the door of his apartment, deliberately ignoring the pain in his hips. He opened the door, leaning against the frame and rubbing his eyes as if he was still sleepy.

He’d been awake for hours.

“What’re ya so uppity about? I was just getting ready for practice,” he said. Maybe he could convince Osamu he had no idea whatsoever about what was happening.

“Ya just woke up?”

Osamu looked rather disheveled. He had clearly thrown on whatever clothes wee the closest and rushed to the Jackals building. Atsumu was almost surprised that there wasn’t any other people waiting with Osamu to ambush him at his door.

“So you haven’t seen any of the shit that’s been going down on social media right now?” Osamu demanded, pushing past Atsumu into the unit.

Atsumu feigned confusion, shrugging and taking advantage of the fact that he was facing the door and Osamu was now standing behind him. “Dude, I haven’t even checked my phone. I’m probably late for practice and Coach is gonna kill me.”

He wasn’t exactly wrong. His freak-out had certainly taken a lot of time, and so if he didn’t leave soon, he actually _would_ be late. Coach was also going to be angry because of the scandal.

(It wasn’t even like he didn’t _know_ about Atsumu’s scars or the bullshit that Takahashi had been planning on pulling at the variety show. He really didn’t have a right to be angry at Atsumu.)

Osamu stared at him with wide, incredulous eyes. “Do you really not know?”

Atsumu scowled at him. “No, I don’t. What the fuck are you so upset about.” He grabbed his phone off of his sofa and unlocked it, pulling open the text that he’d gotten from Coach Foster. “Well whatever it is will have to wait. I’m lucky I showered and changed because Coach is demanding my presence in the gym and I _am_ late.”

Osamu made an aborted lunge for Atsumu’s arm – whether to grab just his arm or snatch his phone was unclear. Atsumu was a pro athlete. He had faster reflexes than Osamu and dodged easily enough.

“Atsumu, I really think that we need to talk–”

Atsumu cut him off by walking out of the room and grabbing his gym bag. “As much as I love it when ya visit, ‘Samu, I really don’t have time for this. We can address whatever ya want when I get back from practice.”

It was just a stalling tactic, and this response probably gave that away to the ever-observant Osamu, but Atsumu would rather put off the confrontation. He didn’t really want to know what conclusions Osamu had come to.

In any case, Atsumu would not be held in a good light.

Osamu moved as if to protest again, but Atsumu had already left the apartment, the door slamming loudly behind him in his ‘rush’.

* * *

Atsumu was not looking forward to what would happen in the gym. The messages from Coach Foster and Takahashi had _not_ been reassuring in the least. Coach Foster’s messages were ominous and rather vague. On the other hand, Takahashi’s messages were upset and annoyed at best.

The rest of the team’s messages were all concerned but didn’t really give a good indication on what was happening.

He walked into the gym to see the team huddled together and half-heartedly doing stretches. There was a quiet murmur as they talked amongst themselves, distracted. Coach Foster and Takahashi were whispering to each other a couple meters away from the circle of the first-string players.

The gym door creaked open rather loudly, unceremoniously announcing his presence.

“Sorry I’m late!” he calls, smiling brightly. “I woke up late and then ‘Samu burst in outta nowhere right as I was about to leave.” He jogged over to the other players, dropping his bag by the bench. “Why do you all look so somber?”

As much as he’d like to ignore the situation, it would only look more suspicious if he avoided talking about the situation. Still, he could avoid letting on that he actually knew what was happening.

“Miya,” Takahashi barked. “We seem to have ourselves in an unfortunate situation.” He was scowling, but he at least had the decency to shove a tablet in Atsumu’s face to show him the more inflammatory posts – the ones that had caught the most attention and were why it had become an issue in the first place. “Do you have an explanation?”

Atsumu made a show of reading through the posts, allowing the shock and shame to surface on his face. He opened his mouth to respond, but Hinata cut him off.

“Is it true?” he blurted out. “Are you hurt and we didn’t notice?”

Inunaki looked cowed as he shuffled awkwardly from foot to foot. “It’s just kinky sex, right? You’re not being abused and I just made a joke out of it?” the poor man looked like he was seconds away from bursting into tears. Atsumu felt guilty for all the trouble he was causing.

Bokuto, Meian, Barnes, Thomas and Sakusa were just staring at him with serious facial expressions. Meian, Barnes and Thomas all looked concerned for Atsumu’s health, but they were more reserved and there was a certain paternal feel to the older men’s gazes. They saw Atsumu as a young man who might have been hurting himself right under their noses. They were sad that Atsumu hadn’t trusted them with his apparent woes.

Bokuto had that odd searching look on his face again, his eyes boring into Atsumu’s side like he was trying to see through Atsumu’s clothes. He was grateful the bulk of his clothing covered any lumps and bulges that the bandages might have made.

Sakusa’s gaze was by far the strangest.

The others were all friendly with Atsumu and had expressed this kind of concern before. Atsumu would definitely like to say that he and Sakusa were friends. Sakusa seemed to tolerate him, and they’d bonded over their like for tea and quiet conversations over food or late at night. Atsumu would like to think that this ‘new’ side of him intrigued Sakusa.

That being said, it was still weird for Sakusa to _stare_ at him like this.

For once, the emotion on Sakusa’s face was plain to see. His eyes were wide and oddly childlike in their fear. They were fixed on Atsumu’s thighs and even though he was confident that there was no indication of Atsumu’s actions this morning, he still couldn’t resist shuffling awkwardly under the scrutiny. Sakusa’s undivided attention was on him and he didn’t know how to handle it, so he turned his attention to Inunaki and Hinata.

“No, guys. I’m not being abused,” he assured them. “Takahashi should already know this–” he shot the man a glare, sneering at him. “As Takahashi-san knows, I have some rather uh… intense stretch marks. These thighs didn’t come cheap–” he scratched at the back of his head sheepishly, “–I’m a bit insecure about it ‘s’all. They don’t exactly photograph well.”

Takahashi looked less than pleased with Atsumu’s response, but Atsumu wasn’t going to let the man – who definitely didn’t like him and was out to get him – dictate how this conversation (that was more of an intervention or confrontation) was going to go.

“That’s why they called me over after the promo photoshoot,” he explained to the team, looking away from Takahashi and Coach Foster. “When I do my back-breaking low sets, the shorts of the uniform ride up and they showed my stretch marks. Coach was kind enough to ask me if I wanted them hidden and since the marks on my body are private, I opted to remove them.”

The tenseness didn’t completely go away after his little speech, but they seemed to be buying his story and relaxing a little.

“Aw, Atsumu-san! You don’t need to feel insecure about your body. We all have stretch marks and they’re nothing to be ashamed of,” Inunaki said.

Hinata nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah! They’re like cool lightning marks or tiger stripes!”

Atsumu laughed, although even to his own ears it sounded hollow. “Maa, I can’t really explain it. I’m just uncomfortable with them. I don’t want people to see. Nothing I can really do about it.”

Barnes frowned, taking a step back, making the circle around him just a little larger. “But you pole dance? Doesn’t that require wearing ah... more revealing clothing?”

This question at least had an easy answer.

“Well yeah, but I pole dance recreationally,” he pointed out. “No one but my teacher or select classmates was ever supposed to see so I wasn’t all that concerned. Their bodies had similar issues to my own, so I felt less self-conscious, I guess.” Although this conversation was honestly making him feel intensely self-conscious. Why did it have to turn into a discussion> It was stretch marks. He was insecure. That should really be the end of it.

Why did he have to be a chatty person and give everyone the impression (that was really only half true) that he loved talking about himself? Why couldn’t he be more like, say, Sakusa? No one felt entitled to a discussion about his insecurities.

Bokuto cocked his head to the side, a confused look overtaking his features. “But you wore really short shorts and pole danced on that interview? That’s what brought this all to light.”

Ah. Right.

“Well, I certainly didn’t know that I would be doing that going into the interview.” He scowled again at Takahashi. “I wasn’t exactly pleased.”

The older members of the team straightened up sharply at this almost throwaway statement. Atsumu had hoped that this would end the conversation, but it had apparently done the exact opposite. Love that.

“You… didn’t know?” Meian frowned. “It was detailed in our prep packets.”

Well that explained a lot about the team’s reaction both during and after the interview.

“That would be the first time I’m hearing _that_ particular fact,” Atsumu snorted. He was under no illusions that it had been an accidental slight, and as such, he wasn’t afraid to be a bitter bitch back. “My packet just had a filler box for that segment of the show When I asked about the watermelon issue, Takahashi-san was purposefully vague.”

And suddenly all scrutiny had shifted from Atsumu to Takahashi and Coach Foster, much to Atsumu’s relief.

“I took a gamble in an effort to endear Miya-san more to the public and get the Jackals more media attention without resorting to a scandal,” Takahashi said stonily. “I did my job.”

“And look where that’s gotten us,” Atsumu couldn’t help but snap at the PR agent. He was still a little bitter that Takahashi had pulled that on him at all. Yea, he couldn’t argue with the results, but now it’d gotten them into hot water and this speculation would follow him throughout the rest of his career. It even had the potential to fuck up more than just his career!

He could feel the beginnings of a headache coming on.

Takahashi puffed up slightly in his indignance. “Well, we can’t always control _everything_ , Miya-san. You’re official statement on the situation?”

Atsumu pursed his lips. “They’re stretch marks and the rather unflattering lighting just made some weird shadows. I never look good in those kind of studio lights – they wash me out.”

Takahashi nodded sharply. “We won’t be addressing… the other marks.”

Atsumu flushed brightly. “Yeah, that would… be more embarrassing.”

“Good. That’s all I needed.”

Takahashi didn’t look cowed, but he certainly knew that he wasn’t popular amongst the athletes and knew when to make his exit.

As the door closed behind him, all attention was on Atsumu once more. He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Listen, it’s not that big of a deal,” he said. “Yeah, it sucked that it was sprung on me, but I can’t really do anything to change the past, so there’s no point in belly-achin’ over it.”

“It shouldn’t have happened.”

Atsumu’s eyes flew open as he looked at Sakusa. He really hadn’t expected Sakusa to say anything at all. He bit his lip.

“No, it shouldn’t have happened,” Bokuto agreed. “We should have picked up on your discomfort and stepped in. You have a right to say ‘no’ and that doesn’t change just because we’re doing a live interview.” The owl-like man looked incredibly serious, an odd contrast to his normal moods. He meant what he said.

Murmurs of agreement filled the gym – even the second string getting in on the quiet show of support.

“They’re right, Miya-san,” Coach Foster spoke up. “This situation is not your fault. It’s unfortunate, but as far as scandals go, this is far from the worst I’ve seen. The fans will support you and respect that you don’t want to show your sc–stretch marks. You don’t owe them any more than the official statement, and Takahashi-san will take care of that now.”

Atsumu’s fingers twitched at the slip that Coach Foster made. Luckily, no one commented on it, but Atsumu could see the searching gazes Bokuto, Sakusa and Meian were leveling at him. This conversation may be over now, but it wouldn’t be the last he’d hear of it from them.

Cries of ‘it’s not your fault!’ and ‘don’t blame yourself’ echoed through the room, and Atsumu smiled weakly. “Well, not that that’s out of the way, can we _please_ start practice?” Atsumu said softly. “I would just like to move on. ‘Samu’s gonna give me an earful for scarin’ him later and I would like to not think about that.”

Meian’s face softened. “Alright,” he agreed. “Let’s get a move on!”

Now all Atsumu had to worry about was not giving away that he had still open wounds on his hips.

He could deal with his twin and all the other messages after practice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Osamu's P.O.V.
> 
> I love hearing your thoughts on this fic and I'd be happy to discuss anything with y'all. Thank you for all the love that you've been showing this fic!


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